Tiptoeing Past Danger
by WhichToBury
Summary: -"I really don't care about his reasons or excuses. Not that he'd give me any. All I care about is giving him a taste of his own medicine. After all, even a master of pranks can learn a trick or two from a so called 'amateur'." Full summary inside
1. Celebrations

_**Tiptoeing Past Danger**_

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**Full Summary**

_"I really don't care about his reasons or excuses. Not that he'd actually give me any," she added. "All I care about is giving him a taste of his own medicine. After all, even a master of pranks can learn a trick or two from a so called 'amateur'. And not only will he learn a trick from me, he'll learn an entirely new lesson; never mess with Hermione Granger."_

After Harry finally defeated Voldemort, he, Hermione, and Ron decided to all return back to complete their last year of Hogwarts. And even though the war is over, Dumbledore has one final mission for George to complete for the Order. Unwillingly, George accepts, expecting a year of trifles and boredom. But George's mission turns into a surprise the trio never expected. And what happens when George gets thrown into an unanticipated war of his own? What will come out of this battle of wits and, more importantly, of pranks?

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**Chapter One: Celebrations**

The twisting halls within the Burrow were overflowing with excitement and laughter, much like the summers many years before, back when Harry's biggest troubles were the Dursley's. The world was so much simpler then for all of the Wizarding World, so much freer. There were no boundaries, nothing to stop you in the world. Death Eaters was just a scary phrase with no real terror behind it. Fear didn't control the lives of witches and wizards everywhere.

Then, the world changed. The wind grew cold instead of soft and welcoming. That's when Voldemort returned, when the Wizarding World went into a constant state of alarm. Many lives were lost, and a vast amount of hope slyly faded away, thought never to return.

Harry Potter returned the hope, though, with the defeat of Voldemort. Children cheered and parents cried when they heard the news. And for the first summer, in many years, there was something to celebrate. And Harry's 18th birthday was a celebration indeed.

"This is spectacular," Harry murmured half to himself. Beside him, his two best friends grinned; Harry deserved to have, for the first time in his young life, a birthday party.

"It looks like everyone we know showed up," Ron awed.

"More than that," Harry claimed. "I see at least ten people right now that I've never met before."

"Not to mention all the people in the back yard," added Hermione cheerfully. "Everyone wants to be a part of the celebration; if possible, you've acquired even more fame than before you defeated Voldemort!"

Harry started making his rounds; he visited those he never met, shaking their hands firmly, and he hugged his Hogwarts companions. Slowly, he began drifting away from his two best friends, both who could not keep up with their friend's ecstatic pace.

"Neville!" Harry cried, calling the lanky teenager's attention. Neville turned around, a bright smile engulfing his face. He let go of a small, glass cup, presumably filled with butterbear, and the glass lightly floated down to the nearest table. The space between the two friends was quickly diminished into a few feet.

"Harry," Neville bellowed, "Happy birthday, mate!" Harry grinned as he pulled Neville into a quick, manly hug.

"Oh no, happy birthday to you! I know your birthday was just yesterday." Neville thanked him all but timidly before pulling Harry into a conversation.

"So, all this news about Hogwarts is huge, isn't it?" Harry nodded in agreement as his glasses slightly budged down the bridge of his nose. He pushed them back up to their rightful position automatically before responding.

"Dumbledore is really going out of his way to make everyone happy. Apparently, this goes out of all the rules of Hogwarts. Once you leave Hogwarts, students typically aren't allowed back in." Dumbledore was, after weeks of consideration, letting all students who were pulled out of Hogwarts due to the war return with no penalty. Such a thing was unheard of for the Wizarding World, and everyone was making a big fuss over the matter. The Daily Prophet claiming that he wanted his "Golden Boy" back at Hogwarts for a final year, but everyone knew better than to trust the Daily Prophet by now; everyone assumed, correctly, that it was just due to the unfortunate situations of the past. Dumbledore also wanted students to be back into the safe walls of Hogwarts, if allowed.

"And he's letting anyone repeat last year if they want to!" Neville added. "The last year at Hogwarts was pretty corrupt, and he's allowing people to retake it if they want because of improper learning situations, or something like that. You're going back to Hogwarts, aren't you Harry?"

"I don't think I could pass up another year at Hogwarts," Harry explained as Neville proudly admitted that he was going back as well.

"I think most of the seventh years want to return. Except most of the Slytherins aren't coming back, of course. Maybe we can have one year of Hogwarts that isn't filled with chaos." Both Harry and Neville knew that this fact, though, was entirely and utterly impossible and in some odd ways, unwanted.

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Hermione scanned the kitchen, trying to see through the crowd of people. What was normally an busy kitchen filled with dishes flying everywhere was now a hit spot at the party; being close to the food always had it's perks, especially when you were at a Weasley's house. Hermione took in the plethora of aromas, strolling through the crowd. She casually picked up a small plate of finger food, pivoted around, and returned to Ron who was sitting in a lumpy chair in the living room.

"Just look at them," Ron muttered disgustedly, not even bothering to greet Hermione back.

"Who?" Hermione turned around and tried to look at the room as if she were Ron.

"Fred and George, who else?" Hermione could think of many other people it could have been, but she didn't mention anything to Ron. There, in the far corner of the room, were the two Weasley twins. They were hunched over in a casual manner that would only make the ones close to them look twice.

"Up to no good, obviously," Ron muttered. "And on Harry's birthday, of all days. Can't they take a break for one minute?"

"Honestly Ron, when have they ever been up to good?" Hermione pointed out. "I don't know why you'd expect today to be any different."

"Because it's Harry's first birthday party, that's why!" Ron roared. "They should show some respect to him! After all, we'd all probably be dead and gone by now if it wasn't for him!" Hermione rolled her eyes, but at the same time, she agreed to what Ron was saying. Why couldn't they take one day off from the jokes?

"Well look," Hermione started, "Dumbledore is walking up to them. He's probably going to break things up."

"Serves them right. They deserve to actually get in trouble with him for once. Maybe, he will tell them to finally grow up like any other wizard their age who has been through a war would." Ron slouched down in his chair, pouting, as Hermione concurred silently. Nobody wanted to admit it out loud, but everyone knew that those two deserved to get into some trouble that they took seriously for once in their lives.

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**Author's Notes:** I do not, in any shape or form, own Harry Potter. Just getting that out of the way

Now, I want to thank you guys for taking the time to read this. I haven't posted any fan fiction for a few years, so I'm getting back into the scene with a new username. I'm really grateful for all of you reading, and I hope you enjoy!

Also, help me out by reviewing. I don't care if it's just to say "nice" or "bad". I want to know, and I'd really appreciate some feedback, no matter what you're saying.


	2. Missing

**Chapter Two: Missing**

Fred and George were normally up to no good, up to some joke. They ran a famous joke shop, after all. Weasley's Wizard Wheezes was skyrocketing, and the crowd just wanted more. That, of course, is why they thought it would be a good idea to test a product or two out at the party. Nothing serious, and nothing potentially lethal, just a few harmless jokes would be sufficient.

The two twins were so focused on setting up their next prank, they didn't even notice their former headmaster walking up to them until he spoke, just a few inches away

"Ah, laughter. Don't tell Madam Pomfrey this, but I always found it to be the best medicine of all. Wouldn't you boys agree?"

"Certainly," Fred agreed while he slightly hid the small box of their product behind his back. George just shifted his weight from foot to foot.

"Curious," Dumbledore marveled at an unknown fact. "Not to break this up, but may I perhaps speak to George for a minute?" George was stumped, as was Fred. What could Dumbledore possibly want with George and not Fred? George nodded, though, and the two figured left Fred behind.

George followed Dumbledore out of the living room and began noticing all the people who were there. It was odd, George thought, how his house could fit all these people comfortably, and with all the decorations or entertainment, too! There were charmed instruments in the opposite corner, playing songs at request. Balloons flew through the air and confetti was magically bursting out of the walls in one-minute intervals. Dumbledore led George through the colors the party until the chatter was silent to their ears. They were up in George's old room that he shared with Fred. Funny how everything looked exactly the same as when they moved out.

Dumbledore sat down on Fred's old bed awkwardly as George casual conjured a chair to sit in. Dumbledore wholeheartedly laughed.

"I appreciated you agreeing to talk with me, Mr. Weasley, but that was before you decided to outsmart me."

"When will you learn that I just naturally outsmart you? I'm sorry Dumbledore, but you need to improve your skills." George grinned, eyes twinkling brightly. Dumbledore returned the smile as he helped himself up from the old mattress, conjuring a lavish, velvet armchair to sit in.

"I suppose so," Dumbledore agreed jokingly as he lowered himself down into his own chair. Both men smiled at each other, but both smiles then began to awkwardly fade. Small grins were all that remained as the silence took over the room momentarily. George realized that, for the first time, he was talking to Dumbledore alone. He shifted awkwardly, thinking of the fact. It was then he realized that this moment was significant.

"Difficult times these are," the old wizard stated conversationally. George, however, knew this wasn't a topic of small talk.

"It certainly is…"

"Oh, don't mistake me, Mr. Weasley, I know that the worst has come and gone. I can't express how grateful I am for Mr. Potter and the Order, but that doesn't make my job any easier."

"Your job?" George inquired. "You mean like restoring a sense of security to the Wizarding World?" Dumbledore shook his head.

"That's an entirely different problem. I am, of course, talking about my actual job as headmaster. As you can imagine, there has been an immense amount of work to be completed at Hogwarts. There were buildings I had to repair and parents I had to please. Hogwarts isn't only a school; it's a safe house for the students. I need help from each and every one of my staff members to keep Hogwarts running."

"I understand, sir," George contributed.

"I'm glad you do," Dumbledore continued. "Of course, with the recent loss of a few fine teachers, I've been having trouble finding ones I can trust more than ever. I need a few members to join my staff, but only members of the Order can assist me, essentially."

"That's why you hired Shacklebolt as the new Defense Against the Dark Arts professor." George slipped out. Dumbledore's expression twisted into that of a slightly amused old man as he chuckled.

"Kingsley never could keep quiet. Well, I suppose that is no longer a surprise up the sleeve of my robe, now is it? Well, then I suppose you know about Slughorn as well?"

"All I heard was about how Snape has his old position as Potions Master back. Nobody exactly knew why when I heard, though."

"Ah," Dumbledore began. "Well, the I suppose I should inform you of the rest." George couldn't tell if Dumbledore was pleased or distraught about what he was going to say next, and George began thinking that it was a tiny bit of both emotions.

"Slughorn was the last one to fill the Potions position, as you know, but he didn't last very long. It was almost two years before he disappeared… many people don't know this, but right before the battle at Hogwarts broke out, Slughorn decided that it would be against his better judgment to involve himself in a cause he has no view towards. He packed his things away and left without a single trace of evidence left behind."

George couldn't believe a teacher would do such a thing to his own students; to abandon them right before they needed him most was essentially unforgivable. George had heard from Ron that Slughorn didn't have a great amount of honor or courage, but George was still taken back.

"So that's why you needed a new Defense Against the Dark Arts professor," George put the clues together aloud. "You made Snape take his old position again because you just wanted to hire Shacklebolt, right?"

"Not exactly, Mr. Weasley. It was more that Snape happens to be the best Potions professor I've ever seen at Hogwarts. The Defense Against the Dark Arts position was ill suited for him. I had no choice but to appoint him back to his old position."

"Why sir," Geogre replied, "did you then give the job to Shacklebolt?"

Dumbledore sighed wearily. "If I had another choice, I would have had another teach the position. Of course, it would have been more convenient if he had prior teaching experience, but we both agreed that this was best. An Auror at school will certainly boost security as well. If we at Hogwarts have learned anything these past few years, it's that there is always a way to penetrate the impenetrable.

"I can only hire those that I know will remain loyal to me," Dumbledore added bluntly. George fidgeted slightly, his hands tracing the contours of his wand, but he never stopped looking his old headmaster straight in the eye.

"I understand, Professor. What I don't understand is why you wanted to talk to me in the first place. Don't get me wrong, sir, I find this all interesting… but I'm assuming the first person you've told in the Order about half of this. I don't think I'm exactly the right person for you to talk to."

"Ah, but you're exactly the person," remarked Dumbledore, eyes twinkling dimly with hope. His robin blue eyes began turning a more remorseful gray with these next thoughts.

"I'm sure you're aware of the constant struggle against the Death Eaters, even now." George nodded slightly, and Dumbledore continued. "After the war was fought, some teachers volunteered themselves for the Order's next mission, you could say. To help put an end to the large amount of terror lingering, of course. Professor Flitwick was among them.

"Professor Flitwick volunteered most willingly, you know. Quite avid to help the cause… he began working with others, and eventually, he fought alone." George felt the panic slip through Dumbledore's protective aura, alarming him greatly.

"Sir?" George edged Dumbledore's words along.

"One day, I sent Professor Flitwick out on a difficult ambush. I insisted time and time again that he take backup, but he wouldn't listen; he may be incredibly clever, but he is just as hardheaded. I eventually gave in to his requests.

"The mission was supposed to last for about three days, Mr. Weasley. I expected him back, but he never came back that day. Days passed by unnoticed before I began worrying. It had been ten days before I knew something happened to him."

George was in shock; this was his former Charms teacher and one of the only teachers who Fred held high respect for. Flitwick all but encouraged his and Fred's practical jokes after he noticed the high level of charms put into it. As long as it had a intense charm work and nobody got hurt, Flitwick would always let the prank slide. He encouraged Fred and George to pursue their talent in Charms as well, no matter how they wanted to execute these talents. He practically pushed the twins into opening their joke shop, and now, something terrible had happened to him.

"Professor," George managed to choke out as calmly as possible, "What happened to Professor Flitwick?"

"That is the problem, Mr, Weasley. I don't know. We never found him."

George was overwhelmed; missing. That was a hard word to grasp. Was he alright? Was he charmed into believing he was a Muggle from Siberia? Was he hurt or captured? Was he still breathing? George's mind churned, doing flips and turns as he panicked.

"I know this is all very important, Sir, but I don't exactly understand the situation. How does this directly relate to me?" George mused aloud.

"Well, you and I both know that he was your favorite professor at Hogwarts. I thought the right was yours to know." George glanced away from Dumbledore's gaze.

"He was. But Profess-"

"I'm not quite finished, Mr. Weasley. Though that is a valid reason, it isn't exactly why I told you of these events. I feel as though Flitwick's replacement should know the full story before he takes his position."


	3. Professor Weasley

**Chapter Three: Professor Weasley**

Silence seemed to be overpowering the room, overpowering the very thoughts in George's mind. Comprehension of the last words that Dumbledore had said was inexistent as George gaped into the old wizard's general direction. George craved to have a time turner that very second and turn back time just to make sure he heard the man correctly.

"Excuse me?" George managed to express his bewilderment in the politest way possible. "Did you just say that…"

"Yes, Mr. Weasley, I believe I just appointed you the position as our new Charms professor. I'd like to give you my congratulations as I explain the basic outline of the position." George started understanding the words, but he wasn't accepting them.

"Professor? Me? Dumbledore, I've always thought you were wise, but you have gone off the deep end with this. I can't be a professor!"

"Now, Mr. Weasley, or should I say George now that we are colleagues, I will dismiss your charges on the loss of my sanity, but I'm afraid I can't dismiss you from this teaching position. You are a fine professor and a great addition to the Hogwarts staff."

"What do you mean?" George gawped at Dumbledore, perplexed. "I'm not a professor, and if I was, I most certainly wouldn't be a 'fine addition'! Why would you even consider me for the job?"

"Why would I consider anyone else?" Dumbledore asked profoundly. "You have a true gift for Charms that can't be denied, and more importantly, I trust you with my students."

"You're the only one! The students' parents will all think that I'm testing out a joke on all their kids at once, which I wouldn't even put past myself."

"We both know that isn't true. You're a well-known member of the Order and a hero of the war. Who knows what would have happened to Remus if you hadn't stepped in to help with Bellatrix Lestrange. And you, knowing this is a mission from the Order, will take this very seriously."

"A mission?" That minuscule detail crept behind George's back before. Or had Dumbledore even mentioned it? George couldn't think straight enough to even remember that.

"Of course this is a mission. It's the utmost importance that Hogwarts is safe, and you are capable with of keeping it orderly and safe."

"If you haven't noticed, keeping things orderly hasn't happened yet in my life. So why me, out of all people? Why do you want me for this mission? You have better options like Lupin, Tonks, even my own brothers!"

"I would not ask such a young family to dedicate their time to Hogwarts, and that's why Remus and Tonks simply cannot become teachers here. The same holds true for Bill, with a child on the way. Charlie, I'm afraid, was always weak with some aspects of Charms, and though I trust Percy, I'm afraid he was against me for too long to be on the same level as I hold you." Dumbledore finished his reasoning, logic never leaving him. George reluctantly turned around in corners in his mind, seeing that he was getting closer and closer to being the only sensible option.

"And Fred?" George asked curiously. "Why not him?"

"George, there are reasons for things far beyond the knowledge of man. We live each day, exceedingly blind as to where to turn in our next adventure in life, but we carefully listen to our hearts for the answers. In the end, the it is all up to the heart; nothing besides it truly matters."

"And what if my heart is telling me not to do this?" Dumbledore's eyes sparkled as the stillness engulfed the room. George desperately wanted to leave the room, exclaim that he wasn't cut out for the job, and go back to pulling a prank on the entire left side of the living room.

"If that truly and sincerely what your heart is telling you, there is nearly nothing left up in my power. But I must ask you this: do you really desire to make jokes for the next ten months when you could be standing up for what you believe in and protecting Hogwarts from ultimate harm?"

George sat there still; his body didn't sway, even by a centimeter. All he did was think about what he wanted. He wanted to be with his twin, and he wanted to be working at the joke shop. George, however, honestly didn't want to teach, but he wanted to assist Dumbledore. He wanted to be there for the students incase a Slytherin who was coming back to Hogwarts was secretly a Death Eater planning an attack or if another teacher was secretly one of Voldemort's right-hand men taking a Polyjuice potion.

"The heart is a difficult book to read." Dumbledore's outburst brought George back to the small bedroom that they were currently chatting in. "I am willing to give you some time to translate the dialect, but I implore you to carry out this final mission for me. It's all I'm going to ask of you." Dumbledore rose from his throne gracefully, and with a nonverbal spell, the conjured seat was gone. Dumbledore strolled to the door, clutching his hands behind of his back. George's eyes followed him, trailing him to the wooden door.

"Wait," George burst up, almost against his own will. "I don't need any more time. I'll do it." Dumbledore slightly turned around.

"Excellent! I shall send you an owl with the outline to your job. Oh, and do make Kingsley an example of what not to do about this news. I find great enjoyment out of seeing everyone's surprised faces when they enter the Great Hall and see the new teachers, and it would be a shame if that wasn't part of the feast. It's been an age-old tradition if mine. Of course, Gilderoy didn't have the self-control to keep his mouth closed, just like Kingsley. Let's not make this a repeat of that year."

Dumbledore stepped out of the bedroom and began closing the door. George, caught the slightly-decaying wood with the tips of his fingers and he followed his new boss out of the room. Just as he began to close the door, George noticed a flesh-colored string begin to slither away and around the corner. George, instead of following Dumbledore, stalked the Extendable Ear around the corner into Bill's former room.

"Sorry my homework is late, _Professor_," Fred mocked, dropping into an unnaturally deep and elaborate bow. "I promise, if you give me one more night-"

"Oh, shut it."

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**Author's Notes: Julie- Thanks for reviewing! I appreciate it a lot, and you review actually inspired me to write chapter three tonight.**

I know that the chapter have been very short so far, but I'm looking to at least double them in length in the future. Hopefully, I'll get a consistent length for the chapters soon! Remember to review!


	4. Diagon Alley

**Chapter Four: Diagon Alley**

"Have a nice day, Mr. Potter," the cashier exclaimed as she handed Harry three sickles- his change from buying a new set of quills. Harry tried to avoid the overexcited eyes of the cashier.

"Thank you," he mumbled, walking away. He slipped the coins deep into the pockets of his pants and he joined up with his friends. "Is it just me, or is not being recognized even more difficult than before?"

"Oh, be happy, Harry," Ginny moaned as she took Harry's hand, lacing his fingers between her own. "Your troubles are behind you, and I'm fairly certain that's worth all of the constant acknowledgment."

Harry muttered something incoherent, and his girlfriend pushed his arm.

"Get over it, Boy-Who-Never-Dies." Ginny casually lifted herself up onto the tip of her toes and kissed Harry sweetly. The two bystanders looked away from the couple. Hermione glanced away out of courtesy, and Ron looked away to save his temper from being unleashed.

"Why don't we move on to the next shop?" Hermione announced. They four students made their way out of Scribbulus Everchanging Inks and, unknowingly, into a crowd of flashing lights and cameras. Annoyed with the press, Harry, Ginny, and Hermione pushed their way through the crowd, almost stepping on a part-Goblin reporter on the way. Ron paused momentarily, flashing a smile towards the cameras before he followed his friends into Flourish and Blotts.

"Honestly, Ron," Hermione started, "I don't see why you bother posing for those idiotic reporters." Ron huffed as he pulled out his school supplies list.

"Yeah, Ron," Ginny added, "they're most likely going to post an absurd story about how you have a thing for Rita Skeeter and you were just grinning looking into the eyes of your lover."

"At least I don't look like I have something to hide like you three," Ron grumbled. Harry, not wanting to start a feud before they even set foot onto campus this year, changed the topic of conversation.

"Now, we just need to get all of our books," Harry guided the conversation. "I need books for Potions, Defense Against the Dark Arts, Transfiguration, Herbology, and Charms for me. How about you guys?" Ron had the same, Ginny had all of the same ones plus Astronomy, and Hermione's list, in comparison, seemed never-ending. She needed Potions, Defense Against the Dark Arts, Transfigurations, Charms, Herbology, Ancient Runes, History of Magic, Arithmancy, and Astronomy.

"I'm not helping you carry that mountain." Hermione scowled at Ron's response as she looked back down to her list. She scanned over the usual names and familiar titles until she reached an unknown. Hermione's eyes stopped and reread the name of the book and the author.

"This can't be right…" Hermione babbled. "The books have always been _Standard Book of Spells_ by Miranda Goshawk, so this clearly must be a mistake. There isn't any reason why he would change the book unless he essentially wanted to rebuild his lesson plan-"

"Hermione," Harry interrupted, "What are you even talking about?" Hermione looked up from the parchment in her hand, confused.

"Flitwick always assigns us the same books, but this year for Charms, we need _Charms for the Advanced Minds _by Igor Hubuntant."

"So?" Ron jabbed. "It's not important, Hermione. Maybe this book is better."

"Ronald, this book isn't _better_. This book isn't what Professor Flitwick would assign us!"

"Let it go, Hermione," Harry tried to coax. "It's doesn't really matter what he decided to give us. It doesn't make that much of a difference."

As the four tried went to locate retrieve their books needed for the new school year, Hermione, though quiet about the matter, never let go the fact that the book was changed. She knew that somehow, the change was going to make a difference. If only she knew what a change it would be.

After all of the books were bought and conveniently shrunken down to a pocket size by Hermione, the group left Flourish and Blotts and split up to finish the rest of their shopping alone. Ginny and Ron went to go get new robes, which they could finally afford with a new wave of money coming in from the press and fame of the war. Harry made his way down to the other side of Diagon Alley in an attempt to purchase a new owl, but Harry couldn't bring himself to even walk into the shop. He just stood outside and thought about how he couldn't possibly try to replace his old friend. Hermione weaved in and out of the crowds, browsing the magnificent parchment and quills that she knew she didn't need.

The four, after being separated for less than an hour, met back up on the decided meeting place, Weasleys' Wizard Wheezes. Once there, the four of them peered curiously at the sign on the door.

"Out for lunch; do not enter," Ginny read from the sign. "Do you think the applies to us?" Ron reached around to the door, giving in a forceful tug. Suddenly, Ron, with a powerful scream, flew back 10 feet into the air, landing onto a small witch's street shop. She old witch hollered at Ron, who just groaned in pain.

"I told you not to enter," Harry said brokenly.

"Excuse me?" Ron steamed, trying to stand up without breaking anything else from the witch's street shop.

"The sign changed," Harry pointed out, "It now says 'I told you not to enter'."

"But weren't we going to meet Mrs. Weasley here?" Hermione asked. "What, are we just going to wait around until the twins return?" Unable to think of a better option, Harry, Ginny, and Hermione sat on the stoop before the Weasleys' shop. Ron handed over half of the money in his pocket as he flicked his wand, cleaning up the mess he made.

* * *

"Honestly George, I don't see why you need to close down the whole shop to tell me something. I'm sure it could have waited until Fred got back, or even Verity." George paced the back room of his joke shop, nervously thinking about the situation.

"Mum, I have to tell you something," George began. "And I need you to promise that you won't tell anyone about it."

"Oh Merlin, George, please don't tell me what you did. I don't what to know who or what is after you this time. George, you have to understand that laws, though sometimes may seem like it, are not school rules. You can't just break them and expect no consequences to-"

"I'm not in trouble with the law," George interrupted as he noticed relief spread throughout Mrs. Weasley's body. "I'm not in trouble with anything, for that matter. This isn't necessarily bad news, but you just can't tell anyone before I say you can. Alright?" Mrs. Weasley nodded, and George inhaled a deep breath to momentarily procrastinate. Once his mother knew, the situation was going to officially be real to George, and that was a huge step.

"Mum," George slowly began, "I'm not going to be making it to the weekly Tuesday night dinners that you want me and Fred to always come to."

"George, you are going to be malnourished if you don't come home! Who knows what you two cook for yourselves here."

"I'd come home if I could, but it really won't be possible. You see, I have this new job-"

"What about the shop?" Mrs. Weasley interrupted. "You boys dropped out of school to own this joke shop, and now you both just decide you want to leave the business-"

"Not Fred, Mum," George correct his mother. "Fred isn't leaving the shop, just me. And before you say anything else, it's not because I want to. It's more like a duty I have. And I'll come back, I swear! I'll just be gone for a year."

"You're leaving Fred? I don't believe it..."

"Neither can I," George sighed to himself. "But Dumbledore was really persistent-"

"Dumbledore? You're doing this for Dumbledore?"

"Yeah, I am. He came up to me at Harry's party and asked me to do it, and since I didn't really have much of a choice, I said yes. He said it would be somewhat of a final mission to the Order to take this job."

"Where is he sending you?" George noted the small hint of worry coming from his mother's mouth.

"Not anywhere extreme, Mum. Just to Hogwarts for the year. I don't really know how to say this, but you're looking at the new Charms teacher for Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry." George looked into his mother's eyes. He couldn't tell what emotion was more prominent: doubt, pride, or curiosity. George waited for Mrs. Weasley to respond as she processed what he said again and again, making sure she heard him correctly the first time.

"You're going to be a professor at Hogwarts?" George nodded. A grin swelled up on Mrs. Weasley's face as she jumped up from her seat and engulfed her son in a bone-crunching squeeze.

"My baby, a professor at Hogwarts!" she hollered with bliss. "I always hoped one of you would, but I never thought it would be you to do it!" George ignored the backhanded compliment as he pushed himself away from the hug, enabling himself to breathe.

"So that's why I might not see you so much this year."

"Oh, that's alright with me! Miss all of the dinners for the next decade and it will be okay! You're a professor! I could tell the world!"

"But you can't," George reminded her. "Nobody can know about this until after the first day back at school, especially not Ron, Ginny, Hermione, or Harry." When Mrs. Weasley asked why, George explained Dumbledore's love for the surprise of new professors. He also explained, on a more somber note, why he needed to take up the position in the first place.

"So that's why Dumbledore came to me about it at Harry's birthday party," George concluded. Mrs. Weasley then jumped up, much to George's surprise.

"I was supposed to meet the kids here an hour ago!" Mrs. Weasley exclaimed. She congratulated her son one more time before walking out of the shop to find the four kids.

"Remember not to tell them!" George called our after his mother. George sat down in a wooden chair along the side of the wall. He slumped down further and further in the chair until, suddenly, a voice snapped George right out of his seat in shock.

"So, the talk with mother dearest went swimmingly, I presume?" Fred strolled over to his brother, casually swinging the key to the shop with his hand.

"When did you get back?"

"Oh, I walked in through the back entrance just in time to hear the praise that we never got before from Mum. Was it nice, for once, to be on the Percy side of the spectrum?"

"You bloody well know I'm not Percy or anything like him," George fumed. Even if the family was on speaking terms with him now, that didn't mean that Fred an George liked him any more than before the family shunned him.

"Oh, I know you're not Percy. Percy was never a professor, and look at you now! You're about to fill the position of the very people we went against for seven years."

"I don't want to do this, Fred, anymore than you want me to. We haven't spent more than twenty-four hours apart from each other since we were born, and I'm not exactly teaching material. It isn't like I'm running off to shag some unsuspecting muggle in the Caribbean for the next year! I'm not going to enjoy this year."

"Your better of teaching anyways than in the Caribbean," Fred grinned slightly, mood turning around.

"We burn to a crisp, us Weasleys," both twins chanted at the same time.

"You'd come back with a nasty burn on your arse."

"Oh Gred, don't you think I have enough decency to be doing those sorts of private affairs indoors?"

"Not at all, Forge."

"I suppose you're right." The twins made their way to the front of the store. With a flick of Fred's wand, the front door became ajar for costumers and the sign on the door disappeared.

"By the looks of Ms. Yarttle across the street, somebody tried to get into our shop." George looked across the street to see what he brother was talking about, and he found the small witch street vendor across the street giving the two brothers a nasty look.

"It must have been Ron," the twins said at the same time.

"Only Ron would be stupid enough," Fred sighed.

"You'd think after all of these year, he'd be smart enough to think things through sometimes."

"You know what he is going to think through?" George looked to his twin brother in curiosity, longing to know the answer.

"What?"

"Well, when he sees you getting on the Hogwarts Express along with him in a week, I'm sure he's going to notice that something's up."

"I need to be at Hogwarts in a few days, so that's not going to be much of a problem."

"Oh, well he and Ginny are just going to mistake you for a git for not seeing them off for their last year."

"Mistake?" George asked. "My dear brother, I think you're confusing me for someone kind. You see, I already am a git, so they won't be mistaken one bit." Fred beamed at his brother's comment as the costumers started swarming in, havoc almost instantaneously ensuing. George, almost reading Fred' mind, walked closer to his twin brother and muttered something to him.

"You can handle this on your own, Fred. You will barely notice I'm gone half the time."

"That's likely," Fred mumbled sarcastically as he went to go show a pretty girl how their patented Daydream Charms worked.

* * *

Author's Notes: Thank you everyone who reviewed for the last chapter: Nutters4Potter, YelsaewRevol, Roxxii the Hedgehog, and especially Binka, who sent me the most in depth review I have ever received on any of my stories. You really got me thinking about the possibilities, and I'm especially glad you were thinking about them as well. I thought I knew what was going to happen in the story... but I might just change a few things around after that amazing review!

Now, for those reviewing (which I really appreciate and encourage, as it makes me want to get my chapters done quicker), answer this question for me: What length of chapters do you prefer, the longer length of this chapter or the shorter chapters before?


	5. Going Back

**Chapter Five: Going Back**

At King's Cross station, everyone seemed to be in a hurry. People could be heard complaining about the short amount of time they had and grunting as the climbed aboard their trains. A generally foul and unenthusiastic mood stalked them around, spreading to those that they sat around.

The other side of the portal, however, was different, and it took immense amounts of strength from both witches and wizards alike to hide their moods until they got to Platform 9 and ¾. When they realized, though, that they were one the other side, students began to celebrate. Everyone, even if they didn't want to admit it, loved going to school at Hogwarts, and the first day of school was exciting for every witch wizard out there.

"My babies!" Mrs. Weasley grabbed her children, one with each hand, and pulled them into a tight embrace. The two redheads squirmed, arms flailing and legs protesting mildly. "I can't believe this is my last year of having any of my children at Hogwarts! You're all growing up too quickly."

"We'll still be your babies when we get back," Ginny tried, unsuccessfully, in an attempt to convince her mother to loosen her grip on her.

"Your last first day of school, Ginny!"

"Nothing all too much will change, Mum," Ron grunted.

"The last time I can see any of my babies off!" Harry and Hermione chuckled to the side as they observed the scene, but quickly discovered that their bodies would have been less bruised if they had kept quiet. Mrs. Weasley, being reminded that the two were there, somehow managed to drag the two into an embrace without letting go of her two children. How it was possible for her to hug four full-grown children- almost four adults- at once was never quite known.

"And you too, practically my children!" Mrs. Weasley wailed with both joy and sorrow. "You're all going to be leaving the nest soon!"

"We'll be around, Mrs. Weasley," Harry struggled. Everyone agreed, but Mrs. Weasley held on to the children for her dear life. Mr. Weasley, Bill, Fleur, and Fred stood far aside, laughing at the scene and avoiding involvement. They watched the four resist Mrs. Weasley for a good five minutes before she even though about loosening her grip on them. Everyone else gave the hugs and warm wishes, besides Fred who cracked jokes to each of them, before they got on the Hogwarts Express. The four seventh-years found one of the last remaining empty compartments and waved goodbye to all of the Weasleys present.

"Is it just me, or are you guys going to miss that?" Harry asked awkwardly. Ginny and Ron promptly disagreed, mumbling about the embarrassment and their sore bodies.

"I'm just going to miss the train ride," Hermione admitted. "This is out last trip on the Hogwarts Express."

"Besides for going home for breaks, of course," Ginny pointed out. She scooted herself closer to her boyfriend and placed her hand within his as a gentle sign of affection. This, Harry and Ginny discovered, wouldn't bother Ron too much.

"I'm jus confused why George didn't show up," Ron contributed with an annoyed tone. "Everyone else seemed to think this was important except for him. I don't see what was so important that he couldn't show up."

"Oh, do you actually care Ron?" Hermione pointed out.

"I'm with Ron," Ginny informed. "I don't mind that he didn't show up, necessarily, but since everyone else showed up, it seemed kind of rude for him not to."

"Blimey, he could have at least come up with a better excuse than how it was 'job related'. We haven't seen him in days!" Ron complained just to complain about the matter, not actually because he was upset he hadn't seen George in the last few days.

"You don't know what he's up to," Harry added. "It could be important." Harry didn't exactly agree with what he was saying, but he wanted to calm Ron down.

"Bloody git for it, no matter what," Ron mumbled.

"But you don't even care!" Hermione exclaimed, staring in bewilderment at Ron. "Why does it even matter?"

"It just does, Hermione." Hermione huffed with exasperation as she stood up from her seat.

"I'm going to get my Head duties from the Prefects compartment, now," Hermione excused herself. She looked right at Ron with an annoyed expression. "_You _need to be over there within the next few minutes. Ron groaned, and Hermione took that as an agreement as she walked to the front of the train.

* * *

Rumors were spreading all over the train, and nobody knew where they had started. Everyone was told that the new Defense Against the Dark Arts teacher was a famous Auror, but the less-informed student didn't recognize his name anyways. Students also learned that Snape was replacing Dumbledore that year, filling those gullible enough to believe it with terror. The entire first half of the train heard that McGonagall and Hagrid had a little too much fun over the break and got married, and the first third of the train thought that McGonagall was taking time off to start a family with her new husband. The back side of the train heard that Flitwick was gone this year, but nobody knew who. Ginny heard these rumors and more as she went to find Luna and Neville and drag them back to her roomy compartment that she was sharing with Harry.

"The gossip is crazier than ever this year," Ginny exclaimed. She told Harry, Luna, and Neville each tidbit of "facts" that she heard as she began to sit down and get comfortable.

"That's crazy talk," Luna dreamily informed her friends. "Everyone who read the Quibbler would know that the poison that excretes from a Puffskein's fur caused McGonagall to think she was Dumbledore, and there is no possible way that Dumbledore would fall madly in love with Hagrid." The other three ignored Luna as they continued talking.

"Most of this is obviously not true," Harry claimed. "Of course Dumbledore is still Headmaster, and if Hagrid had gotten married, we would have been invited to the ceremony."

"Not to mention Fliwick's disapperance," Ginny pointed out. "I think Dumbledore would have told the Order if that happened."

"Not true," Neville interrupted. "Gran said that her sister's a close friend of Flitwick's, and she said that he went missing a few weeks back."

"Missing?" Ginny asked. "Are you sure she's reliable?" Neville nodded.

"Not even his close friends know where he went, but nobody can find him anywhere. They say that Dumbledore has sent out a search party for him, but he doesn't want the students to worry, so he's not telling us about it."

"That doesn't sound like Dumbledore," Harry doubtfully replied. "He always wants us to know what is going on."

"But it makes sense if you think about it." Harry turned to his girlfriend to hear her response. "If people think that Hogwarts professors are going missing, people will think that they're going missing straight out of Hogwarts, even though I'm sure that's not the case. And since Dumbledore wants everyone to come back to Hogwarts for safety reasons-"

"He's not telling people so they won't be under the impression that Hogwarts isn't safe," Harry realized. Ginny nodded.

"That's what Gran said, too. The only questions now are why Flitwick is missing and who is replacing him."

"We can't know any truth by assuming," Luna said out of the blue. Her three friends looked over at her reading the Quibbler, and they all almost doubted that she said anything.

"Er… right," Harry admitted slowly. "We'll have to wait until we get to Hogwarts to find out the rest."

* * *

Ron loved the excitement of the first day back at school more than he would ever admit. As soon as he stepped off of the Hogwarts Express, the general atmosphere enthused him. He could smell Hogwarts in the air, but he only ever admitted that to Luna once. When she told he that it was downright odd, he decided that fact was a little too weird to share with other people. He loved walking by Hagrid and imagining the boat ride across the lake that he experienced in his first year. Ron adored the carriage ride to the castle, even though it had it's annoying qualities, because he loved the way the excitement almost overflowed out of his system while he kept getting closer. The Sorting Ceremony, the feast, Dumbledore's speeches, and lying back down in his bed were the other perks of the night.

This particular night was different from the rest of the first days back. The rain started right before the train stopped at its location in Hogsmede, and a puddle on the step down from the train caused Ron to slip and tumble to the ground. Not only was he an object of mockery, but Ron also had a bleeding wrist.

Ron tried to put that event passed him as he walked past Hagrid, but he only had a short time to recollect the first year before the bleeding from his wrist got out of control. Hermione promised to heal it as soon as they got to the carriages, but Ron was already disgusted by the amount of blood on his new robes.

Things started to look up when Ron got into a carriage with Harry, Hermione and Ginny, but Harry and Ginny decided that keeping public displays of affection to a low wasn't important for the time being. Ron was sickened even more than he was from all of the blood that just was on his robes before Hermione magically cleaned the it all out of the robes. Ron could still smell the rusty stench of blood on his robes.

Ron was still determined to have a good night, but he sulked into the Great Hall anyways, ignoring the murmurs throughout the hall as he trudged along, looking at his feet. He tried to uphold a conversation with Hermione as the ignored the couple, but it just was awkward and lacked entertainment values.

He and his four friends were all occupied when the sorting started, and it all continued into the start of Dumbledore's speech. Hermione, for some unknown reason, was more interested in conversing with Neville about something, and Ron didn't even care. Harry and Ginny were playing and intense game of footsies that, somehow, became more like a competition than an act of flirting. Ron's ears only perked up after a minute or two of Dumbledore speech had gone by. Ron didn't bother to turn around to face the Headmaster.

Hermione got worked up for some odd reason a few minutes later, and she kept trying to get Ron's attention. He ignored her whispers trying to get him to turn around as he plainly told her to shut up and listen to Dumbledore's speech. Hermione scowled and got Harry and Ginny's attention instead. They both gasped notably loud, and Ron didn't understand what was so surprising. He would have showed more curiosity if he hadn't been pouting so much. He just continued to listen to Dumbledore's speech.

Ron's curiosity finally sparked when Dumbledore announced that Flitwick would not be returning to Hogwarts this year. Ron thought that was a rumor on the train and hadn't even thought twice about it.

"Though I am sad for the loss of a great staff member," Dumbledore announced to the school, "I'm am personally sending Professor Flitwick wishes that he will enjoy whatever he pursues next in life. Also, I'm very pleased to announce Professor's Flitwick's replacement. Please welcome the newest member of our staff here at Hogwarts, Professor Weasley!"

Ron froze for half a second. He knew he had misheard Dumbledore because it wasn't possible a Weasley was teaching at Hogwarts; Ron would have known that. Ron prayed that Dumbledore had said Beesley as he slowly twisted his body around to properly look at the High Table where the professors all sat. He held onto the table and leaned backwards, peering around the head of a very tall Ravenclaw student to look at the person in Flitwick's old seat.

And there George was, smugly beaming at Ron. George looked as if he had been anxiously waiting for Ron to look over, and he seemed incredibly prideful now that Ron finally did. Ron, at the moment, unintentionally let go of the table, resulting in him falling back out of his chair onto the floor. Those around him noticed and couldn't contain their laughter as he grumbled to get back into his seat nonchalantly.

"I was trying to show you earlier," Hermione informed him, self-satisfaction shining through her tone. "You just wouldn't turn around."

Ron grumbled as he looked at Ginny and Harry. Harry looked confused and Ginny looked angry and shocked. Ron imagined her expression looked somewhat like his expression as well.

Yes, Ron normally had a wonderful first day back. He even had a good, yet extremely traumatizing night in his second year when he flew to school in the family's Ford Anglia, but not tonight. Ron was in an awful mood from this terrible night, and it showed; that night was the only time in the history of Hogwarts that Ron passed up thirds on a feast.

* * *

**Author's Notes:** A special thanks to Nutters4Potter for reviewing again! This story wouldn't exist if I didn't you reviewers. Thanks to everyone reading, and I hope you're liking it!


	6. Unexpected Entertainment

**Chapter Six: Unexpected Entertainment**

George sat in silence alone, not knowing what to do next. The night was fairly young, or at least it was in George's opinion. With a swift flick of his wand, the exactly time formed in the air right it front of him.

"Not even 11:00, yet," he commented to himself. George lamented the thought; he would have been back at the shop if it were a few months ago. He and Fred would be working on their newest products or possibly taking a night off, drinking firewhiskey with their old Hogwarts friends. Every once in a while, either he or Fred had the time to go on a date or two. Their romances weren't long-lived, though; dedicating time to girlfriends was too hard with a prank empire on your hands.

George's mind kept wandering, not focusing for too long on one particular topic. He moved from old times with Fred to his new living quarters. Deep shades of blue encompassed the entire living room and study, where he was sitting. He had a lengthy desk on the side of his wall, to do grading no doubt, and a large bookshelf full of books on Charms. On the opposite side from the desk and shelf was a large fireplace. To the right of his couch was the entrance to a small kitchen, barely the size of bathroom. He assumed that this was there just for the moments that you hadn't the time to go down to the kitchens for a snack, but didn't plan on using it very much. The living room connected to the bedroom as well, which had color themes centered around Hogwarts unity. The bathroom was elegant in comparison to the other cozy rooms. It had a huge, marble tub in the heart of the room with gold everywhere. George liked the place he was staying at, but it still wasn't his flat with Fred; it just wasn't quite right.

He then thought about Angelina with her long, ebony hair. He always liked the way her hair flowed behind her when she walked. George had asked her out a few months before, but they had only gone on one date due to lack of chemistry. George silently commented to himself about how it was too bad that things didn't work out since they got along so well.

George thought about his lesson plan for the next few days. He thought about the mundane first classes that were to come, and in the dullness of it all, he slowly drifted to sleep, not even aware that he wasn't sit up looking at his new surroundings anymore.

* * *

"LET ME IN," a voice shrieked within a close distance. Startled out of slumber, George tumbled off of his small couch and onto the carpeted floor. Groggy and unaware of what was going on, he stood up slowly and went to open the portrait to his suite.

"YOU." George was pushed aside by a small swarm of redheads before he could process the voice.

"Ginny?" George looked at his younger sister and his younger brother. Ginny's eyes were dancing with such an intense passion that he quickly looked away. Ron was beet red from his forehead to the bottom of his neck, looking as if he was about to explode. George laughed at Ron's condition briefly. He could tell that was a line he shouldn't have crossed, but he didn't exactly care all too much.

"What's got your knickers in a twist, Ronnekins?" Ron's face slowly transformed into a shade of purple as his eyes danced with fire. George slowly inched himself backwards, just incase.

"You!" Ginny responded for Ron. "You're his problem! You're my problem!"

"Bloody Hell," Ron added, "why are you even here?"

"To teach you all the magic of Charms, of course!"

"No, no you're not!" Ginny protested. "You're not my professor! I'm not sure how you convinced Dumbledore to go on with this elaborate prank of yours or why you wanted to even pull it off, but enough! You've had your fun; you saw Ron and me practically explode at the feast! Now leave!"

"Prank?" George repeated Ginny's thought in a mocking tone. "Why would I ever be pulling a prank? I'm a _professor_!"

"No, stop it," Ginny screeched. "Stop being a prat and tell us that you're joking!"

"Why, I never joke."

"Never mind that!" Ron nearly exploded, harshly accepting that it wasn't a joke. "Why are you here?"

"I'm you're professor! I was sure that Dumbledore made that clear earlier tonight, but-"

"No! Why are _you _here, George? And more importantly, why didn't you tell us that you would be our bloody teacher!"

"Now now, don't be cross! Is this any way to talk to your professor?" George was practically grinning from his siblings' reactions.

"I don't care if you're my professor," Ginny butted back in. "We'll talk to you however we want!"

"Then you both came looking for detentions on your first day back? Oh, pity." George was about to ask them how they even found him in the first place, but he then noticed a large piece of parchment in Ron's hand. He recognized it as the Maurader's Map and assumed that Harry had lent in to his friend and his girlfriend to be spared from the rage.

"Detention? Hah, from you?" Ginny scoffed. "You wouldn't dare."

"You seem to have forgotten who you're talking to, Ms. Weasley!" George stressed the use of his sister's surname, making both of his siblings cringe back. "And since it's completely immoral to have my own students in my private quarters, I'm going to have to ask you to leave!"

"You can't be serious! I'm you're brother!"

"I'm completely serious, Mr. Weasley! Now, get out of my room before I assign the both of you with a whole week's worth of detention!" Ginny emitted a high-pitched grunt as she dragged Ron out of the room through the portrait hole. Before the portrait closed itself, though, Ginny made sure to shoot back an intense glare to her brother.

"This isn't over, George," Ginny hissed violently.

"Just wait until class!" George shouted out after them. As soon as he was sure the footsteps were very far away, he pivoted around to his desk and wrote a lengthy letter to his twin. Sealing it tightly, he made his way to the owlery.

"Maybe," the twin muttered to himself with a grin, "just maybe, this year won't be so boring after all."

* * *

**Author's Notes: **Sorry about the the update... it was a bit slower than normal. And I went back to the shorter chapter for this one... I'm just so anxious to get something out to you guys, I suppose. So I'm really sorry about the length, and hopefully it will never happen again!

Thanks for reading and reviewing!


	7. The Fidelius Charm

**Chapter Seven: The Fidelius Charm**

"Is she still about to hex George, or anyone else who upsets her, into oblivion?" Hermione looked at Harry who liked slightly nervous. Hermione chuckled at his expression; it was odd that Harry Potter, the Boy-Who-Lived, was afraid of his girlfriend of all things. Ginny was a bit scary at times, though…

"She calmed down a little bit over the night," Hermione clued Harry in as they sat down in the Gryffindor common room waiting for their other two friends to join them. "We ended up talking about it for hours before she wanted to sleep. I managed to convince her that it was a good thing that he was going to be a professor here."

"Do you believe that?" Harry asked incredulously. "He didn't even graduate."

"That's nonsense, Harry," Hermione accused. "George had built a popular franchise centered around charm work. As long as he can stay professional and leave the jokes behind and out of the classroom-"

"Hermione, this is George we're talking about. Can he be serious?"

"Oh course he can, Harry! Dumbledore wouldn't hire him unless he had faith in his teaching abilities."

"As if Dumbledore got it right with Quirrell or Lockheart or Snape," Ron announced severely. Hermione and Harry looked up the stairs to see their friend sulking down the steps, stomping on each one with an excess amount of force.

"Ron," Hermione scolded, "You know it wasn't Dumbledore's fault for any of them!"

"That didn't stop them from being awful teachers," Ron complained. "And we still have to deal with Snape!"

"George is your brother," Hermione countered. "He's not an awful person! He's just messing with you and Ginny. He isn't going to actually do anything, Ron."

"You don't understand, Hermione! He's going to go out of his way to be awful because he's my brother! Just think about all the things he's done to me in the past!"

"Ron!" Hermione barked, causing a few first years to jump back and run through the portrait hole quickly. "This is different! He accepted the job being a professor! He knows what he needs do for his job, and he's not here to abuse his position! The quicker you realize this, the quicker we can go on having our first normal year at Hogwarts!"

Harry sat on the sidelines, watching his two friends argue with increasing intensity. When he saw the auburn hair of his girlfriend coming down the stairs, he quickly shuffled up to her. The two of them then walked to the Great Hall hand in hand, and their absences weren't even noticed by their two bickering friends until Harry and Ginny had already started eating a plentiful breakfast.

* * *

"So, in the end, you're okay with George teaching here?" Harry asked Ginny cautiously as he starting spreading butter on a new piece of toast.

"As long as he doesn't put me into detention for no reason," Ginny stated. Harry sighed at this, relived that the tension from the situation was gone. Ginny laughed at her boyfriend's relief and placed a playful peck on his cheek.

"His class will be fun, at least!" Ginny added. Harry nodded, wrapping his arm around her waist as they continued eating. They chattered on for a few minutes, eating only when they weren't busy gazing in to each other's eyes. They both jumped apart instantly when they heard the Great Hall entrance door slam open.

"Why won't you, for once, listen to me?"

"Because you're always wrong about everything!"

"Excuse me? If I was wrong about everything, then you wouldn't ask to copy my potions every time we get an essay!"

Harry and Ginny just watched Hermione and Ron bicker as the stormed into the hall. Half of the students in there were used to it, but the other half had gotten used to a year without them and stared. The two of them practically shoved two Gryffindors out of the way so they could both sit across from Harry and Ginny.

"You're causing a scene, Hermione!" Ron hollered at his friend red-faced. "Why can't you just admit that I'm right and you're wrong?"

"Because," Hermione hissed, "what you're saying is outrageous! You're not right, Ron!"

"Why are you always so stubborn about everything?"

"I'm stubborn? That's hilarious, Ron. Last time I checked-"

"Alright!" Ginny interrupted. Hermione and Ron, both stopped and turned their heads to Ginny. "This is enough! Why are you even arguing about this? It's ridiculous, and you both know it!"

"But-" Hermione and Ron both started, but they stopped when Ginny glared at them.

"What is the point of this? You both just need to shut up about this. We're going to find out if he if a good teacher soon enough! If you both weren't so busy arguing, you would have been here on time to get your schedules and know that the first class we have is today is Charms. You'll both find out soon enough!"

"And Hermione can finally shut up about it."

"Me shut me? Oh no, I'm not the one who is-"

"Both of you!" Ginny interrupted once more. "Both of you need to shut up! Now, if you don't mind, I'm going to eat the rest of my meal in peace with my boyfriend."

"Well, Charms is first," Hermione stated, looking at the schedule she just received, "but we have a free period before we have to be there."

"Yes, Hermione," Ginny groaned. She thought her friend understood that 'peace' really meant 'shut up about Charms', but maybe not.

"Then I'm going," Hermione declared. She threw herself into an upright position, grabbing a piece of bread with one hand and her satchel with the other.

"Where?" Harry asked curiously.

"I'd think you know me enough by now to guess, but if you're really that clueless, the library. I've really got to start catching up on-"

"We haven't even had classes yet, Hermione!"

"Oh, I know, but I prepared myself for Professor Flitwick's class. Now that he's not teaching, I have to cover a lot more before I could even be considered for being prepared!"

Hermione strutted away, leaving the others wordless until she stepped completely out of the Great Hall. Ron then turned his head to Harry, confusion flashing through his eyes.

"That woman is absolutely bonkers, I tell you."

Ginny emitted a lone guffaw. "Are you honestly just figuring that out now?"

* * *

"Alright, now what did we learn today?" George scanned the crowd of first years, hoping a hand would be brave enough to answer the simple question. Nobody seemed to be too afraid, though; the excitement of attending their first class at Hogwarts seemed to assimilate to George, making him particularly cheerful about teaching that day. George spotted a hand in the middle row that shot before all of the others.

"Yes," George called on the student as he leaned back slightly, supporting the weight of his body by placing his hands behind him onto this large, mahogany desk. "Mr.-?"

"Fillixen, Sir," the boy answered, hand still in air. "Gerry Fillixen."

"Alright then, Mr. Fillexen, what did you learn?"

"Most importantly to stay always from Filch," the young raven-haired Gryffindor answered grinning. A few students around him snickered at the comment, and a lanky Gryffindor mouthed the word "nice" as he high-fived him. Despite the overall approval of the comment from the class, Ravenclaw girl a few seats back groaned noisily. George had a feeling that the noise was no accident, and thus labeled the girl as a miniature Hermione, not because she resembled her, but since it seemed like something Hermione would do in class.

"Most important lesson I learned in my years here," George mock reminisced, earning a less noticeable scowl from the small Hermione. George looked over to the girl who now rightfully adorned her face with ashamed. Blood rushed to the girl's cheeks, and George could practically hear Hermione say, "What was I thinking? That was a professor! I need to learn how to control my own emotions better."

"Er." George shook himself out of his haze. "Did anyone learn anything actually about Charms? Actual incantations, perhaps?" George called on a small boy in the front row who had told him earlier that his name was Harold Kiff.

"Have at it then, Mr. Kiff." The Ravenclaw boy nodded with a serious look on his face.

"Wingardium Leviosa," the boy mechanically said. "It's a hover charm. It's used to levitate objects of any nature. The wand movements are a basic swish and flick."

"Good," George applauded the human thesaurus, not letting his slightly annoyed thoughts shine through into his tone. Not only was there one Hermione in this class, but there was also another one. What would have been a normal teacher's delight from this fact sharply contrasted George's current displeasure. "We'll be trying to perform the spell next class, so be prepared. Practice the movement and pronunciation. And with that, class is basically over."

At the very moment, the school bell screeched loudly throughout the room, causing the students to jump noticeably out of their seats. Scampering out the classroom, the students all began making their way to their next destination, all curious to what they would find around the corner in this odd place they now went to school at. Cautious, scared, and eager, they all left the room until George was only accompanied by silence.

"One class down," George said to himself as he sighed. He turned himself around and peered over his desk. It was, surprisingly, already a wreck. Seas of miscellaneous papers covered the surface of the table. George groaned as he manually began sifting through the papers. He had only placed his hand on the first few papers before he remembered a key fact: George was, in fact, magical. Coming to the revelation, George drew out his wand and pointed it at the ocean of mess.

"Accio lesson plan." George was sure of his plan and held out his free hand to catch the paper. He did, but he wasn't accounting for the stack of papers under the lesson plan to fly out everywhere causing an even bigger mess.

"This is my teacher. I would think that a professor should know not to do something so stupid." George wiped his head around and glanced over his shoulder. He saw a single person standing in the very front of his classroom.

"Ginny, what are you doing here?"

"What, Ms. Weasley? And I have your class now, don't I?" George looked down into the lesson plan in his hands and he read his own handwriting. Well, apparently he did have the 7th years next.

When George looked up from the paper, Ginny had already claimed a seat in the front of the class. She looked at him expectantly while she climbed onto the desk and casually sat down.

"Class doesn't start for another fifteen minutes," George informed her as he scanned the current state of his classroom; papers engulf the space surrounding him. "Shouldn't you be off with Harry or something?"

"Sent him away with Ron." Ginny pulled her wand out from her robes carefully. George eyed the slender wand; it was a new one that she had just gotten, and the rim of the wand had incredible detail to it. A small design was carved into the handle of the holly, adding a more graceful appearance than her past wand. George saw the wand and nonchalantly got around to the far side of his desk. He fumbled carefully for his own wand, not even thinking about how it would look if a professor used his wand on a student; all George was thinking about was how good Ginny was at curses.

"I don't know if I made it clear the other night," George started, gripping his wand underneath his desk, completely hidden. "You see-"

"No," Ginny protested, not even looking up from her wand, "You see, George. I need you to see why I'm here."

"To hex me?"

"Stop kidding around for one minute," Ginny looked up from her wand. She dropped it down on the table as she got up, approaching George. "We both know why I'm here."

"That's where you're wrong. I have absolutely no clue why you're here." George looked to her forgotten wand as he put his back in his cloak. Hexes, apparently, were more on George's mind than his sister's.

"Are you really going to make me say it? You know how I hate this. It's always been a problem for me."

"Are you trying to apologize?" George asked bemused.

"Of course I am, you slimy-headed prick!"

"Ah, temper, Ms. Weasley. If you try to compare me to Snape one more time-"

"Do you want my apology or not, George? Stop trying my patience here!"

"No, don't bother," George said to his sister. "I'll only accept apologies in form of manual labor." Ginny rolled her eyes.

"Just help me pick up these papers, then," George rationalized. Ginny nodded and pulled out her wand. With a swish, the papers began organizing themselves. George looked at his spotless classroom and shrugged. He wasn't even thinking about the spell, but this worked.

"So, you aren't wondering?" Ginny asked her brother. Having no clue what she was talking about, he told her to elaborate.

"Why I came around and think it's okay that you're teaching here."

"Ah, yes," George said remorsefully. "Do tell me the reasoning behind this terribly sad news." Ginny laughed as she walked back over to her seat.

"Well, if it wasn't for Hermione, I wouldn't have come to my senses." George nodded as she sat down. He mirrored her motion, pulling out the sizeable seat from behind his desk and plopping down. Ginny continued when they were both situated.

"Basically, she made me realize that I was only mad that you didn't tell me beforehand. I didn't, and don't, mind you being here, really."

"It was really all Dumbledore's fault."

Ginny chuckled at his comment. "Dumbledore's fault that you wanted to trick me?"

"No, I'm being honest," said George convincingly. "Though that may be the first time I've said something along those lines honestly."

"And how, may I ask, did Dumbledore convince you to trick me and Ron?" Ginny looked at her brother with playful curiosity. She crossed her legs as she simultaneously raised an eyebrow jokingly.

"He actually told me not to tell people I got the job," informed George. "He's crazy as a Cornish Pixie, really. Told me he wanted to see everyone's faces when they saw me at the Head Table."

"I don't think that applied to family, George." He shrugged in response. Maybe he wasn't supposed to keep that information from Ginny and Ron, but it sure made the feast more interesting. McGonagall even chuckled over the "odd behavior of the two youngest Weasleys, along with Ms. Granger and Mr. Potter" after all of the students had left the Great Hall that night.

"Maybe," George simply replied. With not witting comebacks left to use, Ginny dropped the topic. George and her both mindlessly chatted for the next few minutes until other students started pouring into the classroom. Chatter filled the room as Ginny reunited with Harry with Ron following. From the look on Ron's face, George concluded that he wasn't going to apologize for anything like Ginny had. Hermione was one of the last ones to get into the classroom; she seemed to me struggling with a large stack of books, none of which were needed for class that day. She scanned the room for an ideal seat, but unenthusiastically sat down next to Ron. George plunged in, finding this as good of a time as ever to start class.

"Hello everyone, welcome to Charms! Now, I know that you're all wondering why I'm here teaching you guys. Most of you should remember me from school here, especially my grand exit during the day of Umbridge-"

A small applause broke out from the back of the class. George bowed deeply before he continued with his speech.

"As I was saying, not only am I drop dead handsome and charming, but I know what I'm talking about. So yes, your wildest dreams have come true! Don't let my presence distract you from the act class, though. Also, don't let my young age trick you; this class will be just as hard as if Flitwick was still here. I won't be going easy on you all just because you were all my classmates. Now before we start, any questions?"

The students awkwardly looked around, seeing if anyone had any doubts or queries after his speech. Slowly, Terry Boot raised his hand.

"Sir," he said to George without being called on, "how are you supposed to teach us how to pass the NEWTS when you yourself didn't even take them?" The class all turned to George expectantly.

"Well, I have Flitwick's lesson plans from previous years to go off of. I'll teach you everything on there, maybe even more. In case you've forgotten, I do own an extremely successful prank franchise, which requires that I know very complex Charms. I can't just make new prank just knowing the simple things."

Terry Boot nodded his head in approval to George's response, and Padma Patil raised her hand.

"What do you want us to call you?" she asked curiously. "Professor Weasley or Fred?"

"Well, I would respond to Fred, but seeing as it's not my name, you probably shouldn't call me that." Padma blushed slightly, but George continued. " I'd prefer if you all would call me Professor Weasley, just to keep things slightly professional in this class. If you call me George from instinct, though, I won't be upset or anything; it's just something you'll need to work on. I hate to break it to you all, but I'm not the attractive friend you all can laugh with now; I'm the attractive professor that you all can laugh with. And you wouldn't run around calling Snape "Sevy" or any other disturbing variation of his name, now would you?" With a few disgusted looks, the crowd simultaneously shook their heads. Glad he got his point across, George then asked for any more questions. When nobody spoke up, George continued talking.

"Alright then, let's get started," George announced, exciting the class slightly. "We're going to be starting the year with heavy learning. Now, I know I don't need to tell you all, but I'm required to remind you that everything you learn in this class is strictly for educational purposes. Trust me when I tell you that if I find out that you've misused these charms in any way, you'll have to deal with detention with Filch every week for the rest of the year. Understand?"

The class was silent, but everyone nodded. George accepted their agreement to this and he pulled out his wand.

"Now, we're going to start with the Fidelius Charm. Anyone recognize it?"

George scanned the class, and he noticed Harry's face transform grimly. Ron and Hermione both looked over at their friend, and they both seemed like they recognized the charm as well. Everyone else, though, remain unresponsive. After a few seconds of eye contact with Harry, Hermione's hand shot up into the air as if she had forgotten her role in the classroom until that very second.

"Good Hermione, I knew you would know," praised George empty-heartedly. He was not looking forward to another human thesaurus; he found them particularly annoying and generally too uptight for his liking.

And then it hit George like a powerful stunning spell; he knew how to actual make this class interesting and enjoyable to him. Ginny's acceptance had upset George slightly for he now had less of an entertainment while he taught. He knew Ron would come around within the next week as well, especially since George wasn't actually willing to torment his brother in class: it was too obvious that he would be going out of the way to bother Ron. Nobody, on the other hand, would expect a teacher to have anything against Hermione Granger. What teacher in his right mind would want to torment Hermione? She was the perfect student, but most standards. The thing with George, though, was that he was not in his right mind, and his standards were a bit different than most.

George looked up to Hermione again with a mischievous smirk on his face. Hermione took this as a signal, and she began reciting a textbook definition of the Fidelius Charm.

"The Fidelius Charm, otherwise known as the 'Secret-Keeping Charm', is a spell that allows someone or something to be hidden from anyone besides specific individuals. Those individuals, known as the Secret-Keeper, are held responsible for whether or not the secret is remains so. If they reveal the secret, then the person, place, or item previously hidden becomes visible."

"Good, Hermione," George began. "Good, except for one thing." Hermione looked astonished, as did the rest of the class. Hermione getting something wrong? This event was practically unheard of. George concealed a grin as he continued to lie.

"The Secret-Keeper does not have the willpower to reveal the secret, actually. They secret is only revealed when the Secret-Keeper dies."

"You must have your facts wrong," pointed out Hermione. "The Secret Keeper-"

"Are you questioning my ability as a professor, Ms. Granger?" A student in the back gasped at the accusation. Hermione's looked like a blend of shock, terror, and anger.

"Not at all, Professor," she forced out politely. "But you've clearly don't know the subject."

"Clearly?" George acted outraged. "I thought I made it clear at the beginning of class that I knew what I was talking about! Are accusing me of lying, now?"

"The only thing I'm accusing you of is not having your facts straight!" Hermione half shouted to George. "Anyone in their right mind would know that's not true! You of all people should know, you were in the Or-"

"That's enough!" George cut off Hermione just in time; it still wasn't safe to have people know that you were in the Order of the Phoenix. "I've had enough of your backtalk! If you know the subject so well, then there is no reason for you to stick around. Now, leave my classroom, and return tomorrow night for the detention that you just earned!"

Hermione looked furious; the rage bunched her eyebrows together and made her eyes look malicious. Without a word, Hermione shoved her chair backward forcefully. The chair clanked against the front of the table behind her, but nobody noticed. And with that, Hermione scooped up her stack off books and stomped out of the classroom, not caring if the door slammed on her way out.

"That, class," George announced with a slight smile, "is how you should _not _act in my classroom. Respect is vital, and if you don't agree with something I say, remember how that's not the way to approach it, even if you are correct."

Harry, Ron, and Ginny stared at George especially shocked. The rest of the class was taken aback as well, but it didn't compare to the mentioned three sitting in the front row.

"Are you saying Hermione was right?" Harry asked. Both George and Harry knew that Hermione was right, but George appreciated Harry asking anyways.

"Yes, I am. That was actually your first lesson, everyone. Don't expect it to be on the NEWTS, though."

The class murmured various things, but George could not make them out. After a moment of letting the class chatter, he hushed them down and began starting the actual lesson on the Fidelius Charm. Ron leaned over to Harry and whispered triumphantly in his direction.

"I bet Hermione isn't too confident about George teaching anymore, but I sure am."

* * *

**Author's Notes: **How do you guys like the chapter? And the chapter length as well... I wasn't sure if you guys preferred the shorter length of the previous chapters or the longer length of this one. Tell me if you have an opinion!


	8. Stubborn

**Chapter Eight: Stubborn**

"He said _what_ after I left?" Hermione yelled in exasperation, throwing her head back with force. Hermione slumped down, her back sliding down the wall in the Hogwarts corridor. Harry had gone to meet with her before their next class; he thought Hermione should know what happened. Now, the very few passersby were swiftly retreating, escaping Hermione's apparent rage.

"Look Hermione," Harry attempted to soothe, "It's alright. It's just one detention, and it's with George. We've been friends with him for years. Who cares if he did this one joke?"

"Friends?" Hermione laughed grimly at Harry. "All we've ever been to him is a test subject! Every interaction I've had with him has consisted of jokes, Harry. All I've ever been to him was object of ridicule, Harry, in one of his practical jokes! Friends is not the term for it."

"That's not true, and you know it," Harry told her firmly without raising his voice the slightest.

"And I stood up for him! I thought he was going to be decent. But then, of course, he has to go and make me make a fool of myself! And now, everyone knows that for no reason he punished me." Hermione's drove her hand through her bushy mane, shaking her head. "I'm never even going to hear the end of this from Ron."

"Ron's not that bad," Harry lied. "I doubt he will even bring it up again." Harry sat down on the floor next to Hermione. They both ignored the bustled of Hogwarts, the noises and footsteps that could be heard down the stone hallways. It was as if they were back at the Burrow again, up in the room Hermione shared with Ginny; whenever Ron and Hermione got into a fight, which was quite frequently, Harry and Hermione went up there to talk so Hermione would cool down.

"I don't care about what Ron does," Hermione huffed. Harry looked at her curiously.

"You just said that-"

"Okay fine, maybe I do care," Hermione admitted again. "It's just because he was right, and once I admit that, his ego will be dangerously high."

"Since when was he right about this?" Harry asked, trying to spark an idea in Hermione. Hermione glanced over curiously. Hermione, for once, seemed to be one step behind Harry cognitively.

"Harry, I got a detention for nothing. I think that proves that George won't be a suitable professor."

"It was a joke, Hermione. All that proves is that he is going to be fun. And after you left, we had a really good lesson! Just… don't let it seem like you think George is a bad professor." Hermione stared at her best friend for a brief moment. The silence weaved through the hallway, passing eerily by the duo. It lingered by as Hermione stared at Harry as if he just said something insane, but it quickly ran out of sight when Hermione opened her mouth to speak. If you hadn't been paying close attention, you wouldn't even have noticed that the silence was there.

"George is a bad professor," Hermione stated bluntly.

"You've only been in one of his classes for five minutes," countered Harry. "Give him another chance."

"And before that," Hermione began, "I tell convince Ron that I think he's going to be good at teaching."

"That wasn't my point, really…"

"No no, it's brilliant!" Hermione piped up. "It's the perfect way to get Ron to wipe that smug look off his face. Sure, I haven't seen him yet, but I'm sure that look is already there. But it's not staying for long!"

Hermione stood up swiftly as a triumphant gleam began to shine through her eyes. Harry slowly stood up after her, not even bothering bringing up how she was still obviously angry with George's teaching methods; even though it wasn't the most conventional way to make Hermione happy again, Harry was at least glad he did something.

The two friends, having been promptly reminded of their next class from the shrill ring of the school bell, began making their way their way to Transfiguration. They traveled quietly, but Hermione's thoughts were confusing her. She was triumphant and distraught, but she didn't know which was more prominent. The more steps she took, the more she remembered that she was upset with George, upset with her first class of her final year at Hogwarts. Before she lost all of her happiness, though, the pair made it to Transfiguration. Mechanically, Hermione placed her bag and her books down in the seat next to Ron as Harry took the other side.

Hermione peered over to Ron; he was looking straight at her. Ron looked particularly smug, and rightfully so, Hermione thought. But just because his smug nature had a reason behind it didn't mean that Hermione didn't find it less annoying. Having called this nature minutes before, she was prepared with her responses to her friend.

"So Hermione," Ron haughtily began, "Charms was interesting." He shifted around in his chair slightly so that he was facing Hermione instead of the front. His body fell into a cocky stance as he waited for Hermione's response. Harry suddenly became very interested in the cover of their new textbook for Transfiguration.

"I bet it was," Hermione said noncommittally. "The Fidelius Charm is rather fascinating."

"So, you didn't hear?" Ron interrupted, hoping to fuel a flame. "About why you got kicked out?"

"What is there to hear? He was just joking around with me. You know, I really shouldn't have been so serious about being correct and- Ron? Are you alright?" Ron's mouth fell ajar, hanging further down than Hermione had ever scene before. Hermione began an internal celebration before she continued.

"Anyways, what did George talk about in class? I wish I could have been there to listen. Next class is only a few days away, but I really can't wait to hear him teach! He's seems like an extremely effective professor and all…"

After McGonagall called for the class's attention, Hermione saw Ron's frustration boil up inside of him. He tried not to let Hermione see, but Ron hiding his anger was about as impossible as Harry not being recognized in Diagon Alley.

Hermione pushed the idea of her success aside as she began to take notes, each letter perfect, ink crisply sinking into her parchment. With Ron out of the way, all she had left to worry about was NEWTS, graduation, and George.

* * *

The common room seemed even warmer and more welcoming this year. Hermione attributed it to her long absence from the pleasant room due to the fact that nothing was different at all about the room. The same portraits, including the six-foot wide one of Godric Gryffindor, hung along the scarlet red walls. The gold accents around the room remained seemingly untouched since Hermione, Harry, and Ron left, and so did the furniture. Nothing shifted positions, nothing was added, and nothing was taken away; the common room just particularly set the trio at ease this year.

Hermione collapsed into the small loveseat that stared directly at the fire as soon as she stepped into the common room. While at the library earlier, Hermione began tackling her assignment for Transformation: an in depth essay twelve feet in length on Animagi and how they differ from types of cross-species transfiguration. In the hours after her actual Transfiguration class, she managed to get the first four feet out of the way since she had already studied up on the topic on her own. It was intricate work nonetheless, and it had wiped a good deal of energy out of Hermione. All she wanted to do now was relax by the warm glow of the fire.

Harry had other plans for Hermione.

Hermione didn't even notice Harry sit down next to her a few minutes later. It was only when he began to speak to her that her closed eyes flung open and she jumped, slightly startled.

"I really hate to bring this up again," said Harry nervously. "But it's our last year of Hogwarts and all, and I just want it to be… normal. And without all these conflicts." Harry eyed Hermione before he continued, getting to the point. "I think you should let Ron win this one, Hermione."

Hermione looked baffled; admit defeat when she didn't lose? Okay, well maybe she had lost, but she didn't want to see it that way.

"Harry, I can't do that! You know how he acts when he thinks he was right about things like this. He will act all superior, and-"

"Eventually get over it," Harry finished for her. "If you hold this over his head, he will just keep acting like he is now. I just want my two friends to act normally again."

"It's not my fault that he's the only known male to suffer from premenstrual syndrome."

"Who has PMS?" Harry and Hermione looked over to the staircase that desended from the girls' dormitories. Ginny waltzed down the steps and sat down next to Harry without.

"Ron," chorused Harry and Hermione. Harry added an "apparently" to the end of his thought.

"Well, we all knew that," Ginny admitted, laughing. "It's something we Weasleys have had to deal with for seventeen long years."

"Exactly!" Hermione shouted out, joyful that someone understood. "It's practically a fact that he's moodier than any girl would be. It really isn't my problem."

"Hermione, you aren't even listening to what I'm saying! Can't you just end this so we can have a regular year here?"

"You can't have a regular year at Hogwarts," informed Hermione. "At least not when you're us; it's impossible."

"Just apologize, Hermione," Ginny jumped in, siding with her boyfriend. "We just need to accommodate to Ron and his unnatural needs. It's practically our duty."

"Forget it," Hermione stubbornly told them. "If he just apologizes to me and tells me that I'm right, then it'll be fine."

"But you think he's right!" But it was too late; Hermione was determined to have Ron believe that she wasn't upset about George. The next step, though, was to convince George of the very same thing. And with a detention the very next night, Hermione barely had any time to prepare.

* * *

**Author's Notes:** Sorry for the delay in the update; I just couldn't write this chapter. From writer's block to getting the flu, pretty much everything came my way. So, here's my quick little update. I'm trying to build up the the next chapter: the detention scene! I'm really excited for the next few chapters.

**A special t****hanks to everyone who reviewed, favorited the story, or put it/me on alert! **It means a lot to me, and I love knowing that you guys are actually enjoying what's going on. Keep up with that, and I'll keep up with the writing. I have a break from school next week, so an update should happen soon!


	9. Detention with Professor Weasley

**Chapter Nine: Detention with Professor Weasley**

The original plan was to first knock on George's classroom door to show him respect, but when Hermione approached the classroom on the third floor, the door was already ajar. Striding confidently towards the door, she prepared herself mentally; she couldn't explode tonight. Being on good terms with all professors was vital, and George was no exception. Hermione was just determined to fit him into the category of teacher. George, the last piece of the puzzle, just wouldn't just fit, though.

Even though her steps were moderately noticeable, soles clacking on the stone floor in rhythm like a metronome, George didn't detect Hermione coming into the class. Hermione stood obediently, respectfully by the door, not wanting to interrupt him; George was working fervently on a lesson plan. His quill raced across the parchment, staining the surface with wavering plans for the next class. Hermione stood there for a minute. After no response, she clearly her throat loudly and pretended like she had just arrived.

"Good evening, George," she greeted. She already scolded herself for referring to him by first name, but she continued with her plan to get onto his good side.

"Ms. Granger," acknowledged George in return causing Hermione's informal greeting to stick out even more so. Lightly cringing, Hermione took a few steps forward, closing in half of the awkward distance between the two. George simultaneously rose from his chair. Hermione tried to smile to him, but his out of character seriousness threw her off.

"Now, you know why you have this detention," George said, half asking and half declaring. Hermione nodded curtly.

"Of course. I was out of line the other day in class. Even though I was right, that doesn't mean I should have argued with you."

"Really?"

"Yes. We both know it was wrong how I acted." George looked at her, expression fixed.

"Good. Then you won't be surprised with your detention." Hermione sighed, but George didn't appear to notice.

"I have lines," Hermione stated as she glanced down to her already sore hand. She had managed to write more than half of her Defense Against the Dark Arts essay after class today, but her hand was severely punishing her for overworking. "At least you're not Umbridge."

"Excuse me?"

"Oh no, it's just that my hand is already sore enough without having 'I will not disrespect Professor Weasley' carved into my flesh repeatedly."

"Right." George nodded as Hermione took a seat, and promptly, he informed her that she could just write the sentence she said earlier 500 times. Hermione took out her quill, but she was cautious before she started. What else was there to this? Why was George being so… professor-like? It was a sharp contrast to his normal character, and though it's what he should be acting like, Hermione disliked it. Hermione was certain, after the first incident in his class, that he was up to something else. Something unmoral.

Hermione began writing out the first sentence slowly, hesitance controlling her actions. Nothing was happening, but what did Hermione even expect to happen? She continued to write, but nothing was stopping her from glancing up at George four-second intervals to make sure nothing was changing.

Time passed. Minutes slipped away, but the only thing that changed was the amount of sentence Hermione wrote down. With each word written, more paranoia found it's way to her thoughts. She had barely reached a hundred sentences before she cracked.

"Just tell me, alright?" George looked up quickly, but he didn't look startled.

"Excuse me?" asked George, confused.

"Just tell me what you're up to, George," Hermione demanded. He shifted in his chair, placing down his quill again.

"Well, I am, in fact, working. Weird concept, isn't it?"

"But I know there is something else," claimed Hermione. Neither of the two moved from their current seats; they both just stared across the room from each other.

"No, I fairly sure I'm just working right now."

"You're working on pulling some prank on me."

"No," he denied once more. "I'm really not sure why you're convinced of this, but again, I'm just working on my lesson plan. I'm kind of behind on what I'm going to be doing next week for my third years."

"I'm convinced that you're up to something because all the evidence goes against you; you're always up to something no good. Ever since I first met you in my first year of Hogwarts, you've been up to no good. Why would that be any different now?" George looked at Hermione, intrigued. He sat there for a few seconds in silence, moving his lips side to side. A soft click left his mouth when he slowly opened it, annoying Hermione faintly.

"Well, I am your professor now. Didn't it once cross your mind that I've changed?"

"No," Hermione lied, face not faltering.

"That's not what Ginny told me."

"Ginny?" George nodded, and Hermione picked up on the slightest amount of stiffness in his nod.

"Are you upset with Ginny?" Hermione asked completely off topic. George blinked, taken back and puzzled.

"I don't know where you're coming up with all of these things tonight," George trailed off, shaking his head. Hermione rolled her eyes.

"Oh, if you're going to try and hide things, at least don't make it so obvious. Anyone could tell by how you talked about her that something's bothering you."

"Nothing's bothering me," George snapped protectively.

"No, something's bothering you. You're being defensive about it, too."

"I'm just trying to get you to leave me alone so I can finish this lesson plan, really."

"No, you're clearly upset," Hermione told him. Certain of the fact, Hermione racked her mind, trying to find out why. She didn't even know why she was trying to find out why, but she was determined to at the moment. George, on the other hand, seemed very determined to ignore Hermione.

"Why could Ginny possibly upset you?" Hermione wondered aloud. "You were fine with her the night she wanted to kill you… but now you're not. So you want her to be angry with you. You want her to be annoyed? Oh, I understand! You just wanted to get on her and Ron's nerves! And Ginny probably told you that I convinced her not to be upset, so know you're determined to get back at me. So that's why you wanted to kick me out of class and annoy me!"

"No," voiced George, looking up from his work that had been seemingly consuming him for the entirety of Hermione's thought process. "I didn't want to purposely kick you out because of that."

"But you wanted to. I know you just didn't want people to see you as an authoritative figure."

"Maybe I'm taking this seriously, Hermione."

"Oh, is it Hermione now?" she asked him. "What happened to 'Ms. Granger'?"

"Just get back to your sentences." Hermione stiffened slightly, but followed his orders. Slowly, she began writing once more. The ink flowed messily on the paper uncharacteristically for Hermione. Not even a minute passed by before her thoughts became so loud that she didn't even realize that transitioned into words spoken.

"You obviously call me 'Ms. Granger' to bother me," Hermione told George, breaking the short silence that surrounded them. Looking up, George ignored her words entirely.

"Get back to your work, and leave me alone. I'm honestly just trying to get something done." And, in fact, he was. George completely misplaced the plans for the next two weeks for his third years, and after no luck of actually finding them, he had to completely reconstruct what they were going to do. Hermione's pestering wasn't helping the cause.

"You don't care about being a professor. You don't even care about your students. All you think about is your image."

"No, I could care less what they think about me," George practically yelled, frustrated with Hermione's badgering. "I could care less about what anybody thinks! I don't need to be a good professor, but it'll make time go by a little quicker if I go along with it. All I care about is having this year go by as quickly as possible so I can return to my life. There is nothing for me here! All I'm doing is wasting my time. I never wanted to come back to Hogwarts, and not once did I ever fantasize about grading endless stacks of essays on the basic principles of Charms. It's maddening!"

"And what," Hermione began raising her voice slightly, "am I your form of entertainment? Put me in detention, waste my time so you're not the only one suffering at this school? See how upset I get and laugh at my confusion through the whole situation?"

"No!" George hoisted himself up out of chair, anger rising along with him. "You're not! Hasn't it ever occurred to you than you're just one major pain in the arse? Maybe I just wanted to shut you up for a minute or two! Obviously, though, that didn't work! Here you are interrupting me endlessly when I'm just trying to get something done!"

Boiling up, Hermione's face began to match George's bright hair. Her tense body shot up with her professor words, and an intense stare violently connected them from across the room.

"Pain in the arse?" Hermione hollered viciously. "How can I possible seem like a pain in the arse to _you_? You're the one who embarrassed me in front of all my peers for no reason!"

"Perhaps it just annoyed the hell out me that you seem to know every little thing, that you try and make yourself seem smarter than everyone else you're around! Besides, you're only upset because I reminded Ron what you truly act like."

Hermione was livid; furiously, the chair behind her was thrown out of the way, it's clatter from falling against the hard floor remaining unnoticed by the two so consumed in fury. Hermione march around the table she was at as George stormed from his large desk. Meeting halfway, the two began to fight once more.

"Ron has nothing to do with this situation!"

"So now you act stupid. In any other condition, you have to know everything, but now that it comes to Ron, you're pretending like you know nothing."

"I'm not pretending! How could I know anything in the situation? You're just talking nonsense! I can't even make sense of what you're trying to say."

"You just want Ron to think you're some goddess, to worship your every move," accused George pointedly.

Hermione's jaw dropped, mouth gaping open. How dare he say that! Sure, Hermione had like Ron before, and maybe she sometimes still thought of things happening, but she would never put on a show to attract a guy. She had dignity and self-respect. Besides, she was too busy with school to even think about relationships.

"You're just trying to cover up the fact that you're an uptight, know-it-all prude who can't get a date," George continued. Obviously, both parties were deeply infuriated with each other. Hermione couldn't believe what George was saying, and George couldn't believe that Hermione could say such aggravating things.

"You have no right to talk about things you don't know," Hermione told him harshly. George laughed as he took a daring step closer, but his laugh had no trace of actual humor in it.

"What I don't know? Listen, everybody knows you have a thing for him. The whole school practically has a pool going for when you're going to come out and confess your love."

"That is complete and utter rubbish," Hermione defended herself. "I don't have a 'thing' for your brother, and I would appreciate it if you would stop harassing me! I'm not uptight, I'm not a prude, and I am not in love with Ron!"

"I don't even know why you're getting so worked up about this," George told her. In truth, George didn't even know why he was worked up; Hermione hadn't been that annoying.. He didn't even remember the point where they went from being completely civil to barbarically yelling. All he knew right now was that he wanted to yell at her. He had started off just wanting to frustrate her, but now, he was infuriated by the whole conversation.

"I'm not getting worked up! It just isn't true!"

"See! Just like I said earlier: pain in the arse, Hermione. And you can't bare to think that people think of you that way."

Hermione took another fateful step towards him, nearly quivering with anger. "You're impossible," Hermione growled, voice low. Something within her head, though, clicked back into place then, and she retreated back to her seat stiffly. Hermione picked up the fallen chair, sat down, and began writing her sentences again. Her quill was moving at such an incredible speed, George was almost sure she was somehow enchanting her hand to move so swiftly.

George remained in the middle of the room temporarily, confused at what just occurred. He remembered them fighting, but he didn't remember any moment where Hermione would have calmed down. In fact, she had just about looked like she was readying herself to punch him in the jaw. But nevertheless, George returned to his seat as well.

It was odd from then on; the room held an awkward tension, unnerving the quarrelers. From any bystander, both of them would look like they were working exceptionally hard on the work before them. Hermione's quill's speed didn't falter, and George stared intently on options for lessons. But, in truth, Hermione and George both weren't paying any bit of attention to what they were actually doing.

Hermione craved to know how many sentences she had scribed already. She had lost count around 215, so she just kept writing absentmindedly. Sooner or later, she would cast a counting spell when George turned around and she could find out. But she didn't want to loose concentration on what really mattered: keeping her cool. Hermione's mindset had been broken so easily before. She quickly went from planning to suck up to aspiring to smack George, and the bridge between the two wants was unclear to her. Once Hermione had figured out what she had been doing, yelling at a professor like that, she instantaneously retreated, and she now concentrated on not saying another ruthless word.

George's mind wasn't focused on such luxuries, which was made apparent only minutes later.

"Do you have any idea how impossible you are? I think you're being a bit hypocritical." Hermione's quill stopped moving briefly, but she continued writing again without bothering to look up. George continued anyways. "You're barking mad if you think I'm impossible in comparison. Do you even know how intolerable you are?"

Hermione's head still didn't move, but she responded anyways. "No, I don't know."

"You come into class every day, smug and ready to shoot everyone down! You have to be the best, and when you aren't, you force yourself into that title role anyways. It's abnormally essential for you to come to class and not learn anything. You just come to class to laugh in the faces of your peers, to show them how much better you are than them."

There was a small clank that became obsolete within the next second; Hermione dropped her quill, almost unwillingly. It was as if shock cut off her ability to hold a quill, and Hermione instantly stopped writing. Before the quill and fully hit the table, though, Hermione's head already flung up, eyes staring back to George.

"Better than being a professor who is more than slightly lacking in the knowledge department. At least I can do other magic besides for Charms!" As the silence ensued, George gaped at Hermione. Before he could even formulate a new thought, however, she began speaking again. "Oh, sorry, do I need to rephrase so you can understand? You're daft. Half-witted. Dense. Obtuse. Take your pick; it's all true."

"Detention," George breathed calmly, despite his urge to yell. "Friday night at 8:30."

"What?" George almost laughed at the astonished look on Hermione's face. Insults only went so far, but another detention, next time from Hell, would sure shut her up.

"You heard me the first time, Hermione," George smiled eerily. "You've just landed yourself detention with me. A waste of a night where you could have been doing homework, sucking up to Ron, kissing the ground McGonagall walks on; you name it."

"You can't be serious!"

George chuckled under his breath. "Now Ms. Granger, just because I'm a avid prankster doesn't mean I can't be serious."

"For what reason?" Hermione's face flushed up with fury. George all but grinned at her.

"For one, you called be daft. And many other synonyms of the word as well. Now that should be reason enough, now shouldn't it? Oh, but then again… I seem to recall you raising your voice at me for quite some period of time. You called me 'impossible', and that came with such a negative connotation. You kept me from doing my work by just plain getting on my nerves as well… then there was when you kept disagreeing with me rather rudely. I'd say that all adds up to at least one detention, don't you think? Or should I count each offence as one and give you, let's say five? That's being rather lenient, too. I could add up each insult separately, if you'd like."

"No!" Hermione yelled. "First off, I raised my voice and protested because you called me an uptight arse!"

"Maybe I called you an uptight arse because you raised your voice," George countered with a playful voice.

"I could get you fired for this," threatened Hermione gravely. Her eyes flashed dangerously, but George just shook his head.

"I don't think that qualifies for firing me, actually. I'm letting you off easy. As we just went over, I could be giving you about a dozen detentions, but I'm just condensing it into one. You should be thanking me. But you know, if you really think it would get me fired, go ahead then! Get me out of here, and I'll be grateful."

Later that night, George realized a few things. Hermione stormed out of the classroom so quickly that she never finished her lines. Also, he figured out that he didn't even remember what they had even fought for the entirety of that detention. Lastly, George realized that he needed to work especially hard to make the next detention extra special. For Hermione Granger's own personal enjoyment, of course.

* * *

**Author's Notes: **What did you guys think? Now the real story is about to unfold... it's going to end up being a long story if I have my way. A lot of craziness is going to go down in the chapters coming up! The next chapter should be coming up soon. I'll start on it tonight, and we'll see where it goes from there!

Thanks again for the reviews, of course. That means you, SweetSweetRevenge, Molly Goode, and Nutters4Potter. And there were so many people who favorited me or put me onto alert this time around! Thanks for all of it; it really means a lot to me.


	10. Chameleon Powder

**Chapter Ten: Chameleon Powder**

"So much for the plan." Ginny shook her head disapprovingly as Hermione slouched down into the loveseat in the Gryffindor common room. Ginny approached her friend and sat down opposite from her on the huge scarlet couch.

"I haven't even told you what happened yet!" Hermione said exasperated. "I haven't even said 'hello' to you yet and it's gotten around to you what happened."

"Nothing's going around, Hermione. You're just too tense for it to have gone well. Anyone could tell you that. Well, besides for Ron. A house-elf under the influence of Butterbear has more common sense than Ron."

"It was a nightmare, Ginny," Hermione told her friend, ignoring her humor. "I don't even know what happened in there. One minute, I was writing sentences. Then next minute, I was calling George obtuse for calling me a pain in the arse."

"You're not exaggerating, are you?"

"No," Hermione sighed regretfully. "Those are both exact quotes. Needless to say, I'm not on his good side yet. Nor will I ever be. You know, I have another detention on Friday night."

"What?" Ginny's eyes widened as she leaned in closer to Hermione. Ginny hadn't expected everything to be perfect between George and Hermione, but she didn't expect her to get in trouble again. "And was he being serious?"

"What do you mean?"

"Well, was he doing it because you deserved it or was he doing it to annoy you? He would think this type of thing was actually funny…" Hermione glanced away from her comrade, into the fire to her left. It danced gaily, without worries or care, and Hermione envied an existence without anxiety.

"The sad thing is," Hermione began, "I think it was a bit of both."

Ginny sighed deeply. "This might be more confusing than I thought."

* * *

The sun peeked through the curtains navy curtains, gazing upon the restless body of George Weasley. He normally needed a boost to help get him up and out of bed, but this morning had been different. George tossed and turned the previous night, and it was unnerving.

The past few days, in general, had been unnerving. All of the fire from the Tuesday night detention had slowly faded away from George. George wanted to believe he had reasons why he acted the way he did, but he didn't have any logical ones. Fred, in a letter, told George that he thought the whole thing was hysterical, but Fred was the only one who thought so. One of the only other people who he had hoped would be on his side, Ginny, decided that Hermione's friends was more important than George's was and stuck by her in this little feud. George didn't deem the situation anything to even get worked up about, but suddenly, all the people he knew at Hogwarts did.

"In hindsight, that wasn't really a good thing to do after all," George muttered to himself as he threw the covers back onto his sloppy bed. It was just another joke gone too far for George, but this was a different case. Or was it even a joke at all? What was it that happened between George and Hermione that night? He had been thinking the same thoughts for days, confused about it all.

Now that it was the day of the next detention, George felt guilt creep upon him, and he knew he should do something. He didn't know why Hermione was so distressed by the detention, but he was going to put an end to said distress; George, as he left his room for breakfast in the Great Hall, decided that he was going to excuse the detention and apologize for all the things he said to Hermione a few nights before. Such plans calmed his guilt faintly.

After he got to the Great Hall, George ate his breakfast in peace. He rather enjoyed the "all you can eat" aspect of Hogwarts, and this morning, he decided to use that option to his advantage. With eyes bigger than his stomach, George pilled up a stack of waffles onto his single plate, anxiously eying the food. Rich syrup showered over the edges of the waffles, alleviating any remaining stress he felt about Hermione.

George didn't know why her grief hassled him; maybe he was already transforming into the professor that he was trying to desperately run away from. Maybe George was quickly starting to care for the well being of his students. Maybe his conscious that he had been missing all the years before had finally caught up to him.

George consumed his hearty breakfast quickly, and he proceeded to make his way back to his chambers. After careful organization of his supplies, he made his way down the corridors of Hogwarts and to his classroom. Arms full of papers, George pushed the door, which was slightly open, with his foot and stepped inside to his workspace.

"Hermione," said George, startled. There was Hermione, standing in the middle of George's classroom. Though she was faced the opposite direction, anyone who had ever met Hermione could distinguish her just from her hair. George walked fully into the room, closing the door slightly. The soft creak of the door seemed to trigger and cue Hermione when to precisely turn around. When she faced him, something looked a little off with her expression. George couldn't exactly sort out what look she conveyed, but it alarmed him slightly.

"What are you doing here?" George asked accusingly. Hermione raised her eyebrows in return.

"I'm in your next class. It starts in ten minutes."

"Any reason for being here early?" Unlike his first question, George asked this more casually as if to just carry on the conversation.

"Oh, no particular one," Hermione admitted. "I was at the library beforehand, and I finished my Ancient Runes essay earlier than I expected, so I decided to head here."

"Is that normal for you?" George asked. "Do you always do work before the school day even starts?"

"No, not normally. But I'm loosing time tonight that I need to be working, so I did it this morning instead."

"I see," George said, filling the brief silence. There was no need to ask why she wouldn't have time to work; George already knew she was referring to the detention tonight. He wondered if she would still spend the time studying tonight after he let her off of the detention or if she would give herself the night off.

George and Hermione crossed the room at the same time as they both headed to their respected desks. George shuffled awkwardly passed her, dropping his stack of work onto his desk. He rearranged his pile somewhat before he took a deep, readying breath in.

"Better now than later," George murmured so softly that it just sounded like he was breathing. He turned around to Hermione again and addressed her.

"Hermione, we need to talk." Hermione was in her seat already, book in front of her. She looked up from her interest and met George's gray eyes.

"About?"

"Well, I think we both know…" Hermione cocked her head curiously before George added to his previous sentence. "About detention."

"Well," Hermione said, returning to her book, "about the prior detention or the upcoming one? What actually could be said about either, really?"

"A lot could be said about both," admitted George, a sheepish blush creeping onto his face. "We should probably talk about what happened first, Hermione."

Before Hermione could react, the door to the classroom was pushed ajar. It opened slightly, but the door stopped before it was wide enough for anyone to actually walk in it. Hermione and George momentarily turned their attention to the entrance.

"You can come in," George said loudly to the direction of the door. The door swung back as Hannah Abbot and Megan Jones, two Hufflepuff students in the next class, walked into the classroom. Hermione's attention returned to George.

"We'll continue in private," George told her, voice lower. She nodded, returning to her book as more students slowly began filing in. George became aimlessly chatting with a few students in the class, not entirely paying attention to what he was saying until, finally, the bell rang for class to start.

"Welcome, everyone!" George greeted jollily. "By now, you've realized that you're not dreaming and that, yes, I am actually your professor! You did not have some taunting dream; this is your wonderful reality." George earned a few chuckles with his entrance before he grew slightly more serious.

"Now, as you should all remember, we learnt about the Fidelius Charm back on Monday. Now it's time for us to learn about the proper wand movements for the charm. It's rather complicated, but since I taught you all the theory of it last lesson, you should be able to pick it up."

"We're going to cast the Fidelius Charm?" asked a Ravenclaw boy incredulously.

"Are you sure that's safe?" another voice in the crowd said.

"We're only in our first week, and he's going to be sending us to the Hospital Wing!"

"Now hold on," George commanded his class. "I'm following the lesson plans that professor Flitwick left for me. He actually had you learning and casting on the same day, but I stretched in out a bit since I'm new at teaching. Nobody's going to be sent to the Hospital Wing while I'm around!"

"He's so noble," breathed Lavender Brown, swooning over her professor.

"More like bigheaded," Ginny joked.

"Now, ready to get started?" George asked the class. Terry Boot raised his a hand, but, like the last class, made a habit of not waiting to be called on.

"Sir, how do you propose we go about practicing the spell? We can go on hiding people in the class!"

"Of course not. You'll each be trying to hide a simple object: a feather. Then, at the end of the class, you'll each show me where the item is without telling me that it's hidden there. Then, after you've shown me the area, you'll tell me the secret and expose the object to me. We can't, for obvious reasons, hide actual people, but this lesson gets the technique and point across. Now, as soon as I give you the feathers, I'll show you the spell myself."

Distracted chatter erupted throughout the class, but everyone looked eager. George took this moment, while the class was distracted, to gather the supplies for the lesson. He went to bring out the feathers from the bottom drawer of his desk, but George quickly realized the challenge in doing so; the bottom drawer was notorious among the professors for having a fatal stick to it that would only give if you tugged on it with all your bodyweight. Some prankster, before Fred and George's days at school, had cast a spell on it to make it nearly impossible to open, and magic now had no effect on it. Flitwick and the other professors, after apparently finding no cure for years, gave up and accepted that the bottom drawer could not be used. Why they hadn't just bought a new desk was beyond George, especially since he momentarily forgot the drawer's legend and put the feathers in there.

George put his hand on the brass handle of the drawer and gave it a small tug before remembering that he put the feathers in the worst drawer. Awkwardly, George placed his foot on the desk, pushing off to aid in opening the drawer. He heaved with his entire body weight. It seemed like his body weight, after all, wasn't going to be enough, but sure enough, after a few uncomfortable seconds, George flew back as the drawer gave. The feathers soared out of the drawer and followed George to the floor before the drawer, hissing and growling, returned into its nook inside the desk.

The whole class stopped talking to stare at George, unsure whether to laugh or help. George quickly got to his feet, collecting the feathers within his arms.

"What beats me how I managed to get the drawer opened in the first place to put the feathers in," George said, lightening the mood. George listened to the talk, which picked right back up again, as he distributed the feathers with his wand. They glided out of his arms smoothly, landing in front of each student with a swift ease.

"Now, to begin the actual lesson," George began, voiced projecting throughout the room, "You'll all need your wand. Now, the trick to the Fidelius Charm is to make the incantation and movements very fluid, but they have to be exact. Here, let me-"

"Excuse me," Hermione interrupted, hand shooting up. "Professor, I don't have a feather." The class turned around to her, half wanting to prove her wrong and show her that it was right in front of her, but she, in fact, did not have a feather before her. Ron looked at her confused, muttering incoherent words to her, but Hermione ignored him.

"Okay then," George mumbled, looking around him. He knew he had the exact right amount of feathers pick out, but he didn't argue. "Maybe one was left in the drawer…"

George turned around, heading towards the desk. George could have sworn he heard the whoosh of Hermione's hand flying up into the air before she began to speak again.

"Sir, if you don't mind me saying so, you might not want to try to open that drawer again." The class unanimously agreed and made such opinions obvious with their loud protests. George, deciding they were right, began checking all the other drawers in the desk for another feather.

"Could have sworn I saw one that I used for my first years laying about…" George announced aloud to the class. George pulled open the long, elongated top drawer that stretched out across the top of the desk. Before he could even look inside, he was greeted with something he did not expect.

A large cloud of black smog leaked out of the top drawer in an explosion. George jumped back from the fog as an instinct, but he wasn't quick enough to escape. The dark substance filled the room instantly, masking the view of the room temporarily. It didn't however mask the screams of shock and surprise emitted by everyone in the room.

"Everyone, stay calm!" choked George as he felt around on the floor. Groping eagerly, he searched around on the floor around him, desperate to find his wand and clear the room of the unknown black smoke.

"Contego," shouted a voice across the room. A large gust of wind, blowing powerfully and forcefully, pushed throughout the classroom. Everyone automatically covered their heads. Before anyone knew what happened, the room was spotless. Immediately, George got up from the floor and addressed the savior.

"Great job-" he began cheerful. George stopped talking when he saw everyone in the classroom. Looking around, he noticed something rather odd: everyone's skin was stained in the most peculiar fashion. Lavender Brown's was covered in a disturbingly bright shade of yellow, and Dean Thomas was not only green, but he had purple Hippogriffs branded on him as well. Blaise Zabini was rainbow and, though she didn't seem to mind, Luna Lovegood turned an abnormal color bronze such as a statue. George looked down and saw the he too had been effected; his skin was etched with dancing Pygmy Puffs that were doing an actual, moving jig with a bright sky blue behind them.

George then noticed how painfully obvious who the liberator was who got rid of the dark haze. There she stood, wand protruded, with a focused look on her face. She and the few people around her stood out in this crowd of misfits, though, because they were the only ones not stained.

"Good job, Hermione," George continued with disdain in his voice.

"It was no trouble," Hermione began to explain. "I first cast a shielding charm, but it only protected those people sitting close to me... then I cast a repelling spell to get rid of the-"

"Chameleon Powder," George told the class. "It's an altercation of the Peruvian Instant Darkness Powder. It changes the color of your skin instead of just shielding your vision. It's used to create an even bigger laugh when pulling a prank. There is no cure for the color or the pictures, but it will fade within two days time."

The class exploded with talk. Some people were laughing at the situation, and some people were complaining loudly.

"How do you know all of this?" Michael Corner asked George noisily. He tried to remain serious when asking this, but the dancing Pygmy Puffs on George's skin was too much to handle, and he cracked up with laughter.

"I invented it over the summer with my brother," George admitted.

"And you decided that you shouldn't make an antidote?"

"Hey!" hollered George. "Look, this is just a minor setback. I know it's a little distracting, but that's it. There isn't a need for an antidote-"

"But what if my boyfriend sees me like this? He'll leave me for sure!" proclaimed Ophelia Blishwick from the far side of the classroom. She looked as if she was going to faint from the sight of her pure white skin.

"Then you should break up with him anyways for being shallow. Look, this isn't permanent or anything-" George was cut off yet again.

"How are we going to go on for the next few days looking like this?"

"How come you didn't notice your own invention in time to stop it?"

"What even happened? How did that get everywhere?"

"Enough!" George bellowed. "Class is dismissed, everyone." Everyone grew silent at last. Each of them looked back and forth, in between each other and their tainted shades of skin.

"What about the Fidelius Charm?" Ginny asked her brother on account of the whole class. George shook his head.

"Forget it. It's not happening today. We'll work on it next week instead." Awkwardly, each student sat in his or her seat, not wanting to be the first to get up. Slowly, Harry literally took a stand and left the classroom, Ginny in hand. It didn't take long for the rainbow assortment of students to follow behind them. Hermione was the only one who didn't leave.

"Sir," Hermione addressed George as she carried her personal belongings, "You wanted to speak to me after class?" She stepped towards him with a look of innocence on her face, most likely a side effect of holding in the laughter from George's appearance.

"Yeah, I did, didn't I?"

"About the detentions," she aided him.

"Right, well-" George began to speak, but he stopped mid-thought. It was well hidden, but what George could see changed everything he planned on saying. Right under the cover of the book Hermione had been so intrigued with earlier was one single feather, and not just any feather; it was the same feathers that George was using for the lesson earlier. The same feather that Hermione said she didn't have. It was well concealed, almost completely out of sight, but the tip of it stuck out of the book accidentally. It didn't take long for George to put two and two together.

"Professor?" Hermione tried to grab George's attention again. "You were saying?"

"Forget it," George replied calmly. "Detention is tonight, Ms. Granger. Don't be late."

* * *

**Author's Notes:** Guys, I'm so sorry for the delayed update! Since I've last posted, I've been somewhat constantly sick. It's proved to be a true pain, but I've finally mustered up enough energy to write this baby up! Just in time for the holidays. On regards to the next time I update, the time frame might be a bit iffy. Either I'll have it up in a few days or it will be up in 2010! I'm going on a vacation and I'm restraining from writing while I'm there, so it all depends on whether I have time to write it before or after I go.

Another special thanks to Binka, once again, for leaving me an incredibly in depth and helpful review! And, of course, thanks to my other reviewers: darkangel913, Molly Goode, SweetSweetRevenge, Nutters4Potter, and Deevee White! I couldn't do it without you guys!

Love it? Hate it? Have a suggestion? **Leave me a review about it!** All and any reviews are highly appreciated.


	11. The War

**Chapter 11: The War**

George was waiting uncharacteristically serenely in his classroom anticipating the events that would unfold that evening. Pale but brawny, his fingers traced small, unrecognizable pictures onto the cold wooden surface of his desk. Minutes passed by quickly as he did this, and while so, his thoughts of Hermione consumed him entirely. She has been on his mind all day from the moment he woke up, determined to make amends, to his class with her where she pulled a prank on him, to now, just minutes before the imminent detention.

Tonight, George decided earlier in the day, wasn't about punishment, and it wasn't about getting even. Tonight was about getting answers out of Hermione Granger. After all, it was painfully obvious to George who had pulled the prank on the entire class earlier. The only question remaining in George's mind was why Hermione had done it exactly. George had his guesses, but he wanted to hear it from Hermione herself.

If you walked into George's classroom at that moment, you would have never known that there was turmoil between him and Hermione earlier in the day. The only proof that anything out of the ordinary had occurred was George's skin, which was still blue with dancing Pygmy Puffs on scattered about. The brightness has slightly faded away, but it was still evident. It didn't, in fact, go unnoticed by George's next two classes, which he decided not to cancel despite his odd condition. Rumors had spread school-wide before he even came to the Great Hall for lunch. Did you hear what happened to Professor Weasley's class? Did you see the class's embarrassing skin? Can you believe that someone pranked a pranking legend? Everyone was talking about it.

A virtually inaudible creak came from across the room, shaking George out of his thoughts. Awkwardly, Hermione walked into the classroom, eyes to the floor. She looked glanced up quickly, approaching George, but quickly adverted her eyes again; he suspected that she was trying her hardest not to grin and laugh at the sight of him. George didn't blame her, though. If he had done the same to a teacher, his own grin would have been a mile wide.

"Good evening Ms. Granger," George greeted, forcing formalities. It still felt unnatural to him to address people such as; he was such a casual person. Nevertheless, Hermione silently returned to formality with a crisp nod to her professor. Standing in the middle of the wide classroom, Hermione made eye contact with George expectantly.

"So, detention again, Ms. Granger," George drawled. "That's twice this week."

"I know, sir. Pardon me, but what do you want me to do this time?" George concealed a sly grin from Hermione, propping his head lazily onto his hand and weighing it down onto his desk.

"Now, don't get ahead of yourself," George warned Hermione. "You know how this goes." Hermione didn't apparently as she stood there, transfixed on his words, trying to figure some sense from them. Knowing what was to come, George had another urge to grin. He buried his impulse as the silence droned on.

"Ms. Granger, you know why you have this detention," George queued her in a half asking, half declaring tone, exactly like he said in the prior detention. Hermione, this time, didn't answer as quickly.

"Well," she started, "it was many reasons, right?" George gave no indication whether she was correct or not, so she carried on with her current thought. "I wasn't exactly proper last detention."

"No, you weren't," George agreed. "Perhaps we both said things we shouldn't have." Hermione's head jerked up shocked. Mouth slightly agape, she had no idea how to properly respond. Hermione was almost sure she misheard George somehow. Stuttering with confusion, Hermione answered cautiously.

"P-Perhaps." George leaned forward in his chair, closer to Hermione.

"All the same," George trailed off. "Shall you continue?" She nodded, regaining a small amount of composure.

"I raised my voice to you, sir, and I said some inappropriate things that shouldn't be said to a professor."

"Indeed," he agreed coolly with a nod.

Overwhelming stillness deluged into the room, eerie and unwelcome. George sense Hermione's perturbed state that followed his short answer, but he did nothing to ease it. Dragging this out was, after all, what made it so fun.

"I don't need to elaborate, do I?" Hermione asked uneasily. "I don't exactly remember anything that happened that night anymore…"

"No, of course not," George eased slightly. The prominent silence that followed once more erased all ease that his words previously brought. Hermione didn't know what she was missing or what George was doing.

"That's why I have another detention tonight." Hermione finished like the end of a small child's essay, pointing out the obvious to George.

"Would you bet your life on it?"

"Excuse me?" George couldn't cover it anymore; a slight grin grew across his face.

"It's a simple concept that I'm sure you're familiar with. I'm, of course, not going to actually murder you if you get this wrong. This is hypothetical in that sense. I'm just trying to see how confident you are in this answer."

"I'm aware of what you're doing," Hermione snapped, but added a polite 'but thank you' to make up for her harshness. "I'm not sure what you're playing at, but yes, I'd bet my life on it."

George raised his eyebrow to Hermione's response. He let out a small chuckle as he shook his head. Hermione cocked her head slightly, not in on the joke.

"Ms. Granger, if you had truly just bet your life on your answer, then you'd be dead." Hermione's jaw dropped; what was George talking about? Did he have a secret agenda for giving her a detention? Did he really not care about any of the fight they had? A meek 'sir?' was all Hermione could manage to say in this confused state of hers.

"That's not why you're here at all tonight, Ms. Granger," George stated. A gleam of pleasure shone through his eyes as Hermione sputtered, struggling to answer. He knew he shouldn't take pleasure in this… but how couldn't he?

"Professor," Hermione addressed him, "Why am I here then?"

"Isn't it obvious?" George grinned brightly at Hermione in her bewilderment. "For pulling that outlandish prank on me and my class this morning."

If Hermione was baffled before, her confusion was off the charts now; it was apparent to George through her eyes.

"I have no idea what you mean," Hermione argued calmly. "I didn't prank-"

"It's excruciatingly obvious it was you," interrupted George. "I don't know who you think you're tricking, but I do happen to know my way around pranks. I of all people could figure this one out."

"Why would I want to prank you? I just want to go back to a healthy student-teacher relationship." George laughed boisterously at her response.

"Hermione, we never had a healthy student-teacher relationship. I've only been teaching you for five days, and each day, one of us has been out to get the other. True, it had mostly been me, but then today, you stepped up to the plate! It makes so much sense, but it still caught me by surprise."

"Why would I prank you because of these silly detentions you've been giving me?"

"I have my theories, but instead of wasting time with me guessing, you could just tell me outright."

"You don't even have proof it was me." Even though they both were looking at each other seconds earlier, now they made overpowering eye contact. All they saw at that moment was each other's eyes. As if the eyes spoke more than the lips, both knew the current agenda of the other's mind. George knew that he was correct about Hermione through her eyes and saw that she clung to a thread of hope; Hermione hoped George had no legitimate evidence against her. She instantly knew though, just by looking in George's eyes, that he out to bring her down.

"I saw your feather this morning." George broke the silence. He waited for Hermione to gasp or have her eyes grow in reaction, but she didn't indicate any signs of change. "Now, since you won't tell me, I'll continue with my theories. Now, could it be revenge? That one seems likely. Maybe attention."

"What feather?" Hermione ignored George's last words intently.

"The feather that you were missing for the lesson, of course!" George said with mock cheer. "The one you didn't receive to practice the Fidelius charm on."

"Where was it?"

"You know where it was. After all, it never went missing, did it? I have," George paused for dramatic effect, "a sneaky little feeling that you had it with you knowingly the whole time. In your book, perhaps?" Blank and unresponsive, Hermione stood mere feet away from George in silence. Long moments passed before Hermione moved. Slowly, the natural frown on her face curled up into an unmistakable smile.

"You think that it was me because of _that_?" Hermione laughed. "You do realize that everyone writes with quills here, right? I'm sure you just saw my quill with me."

"We both know the difference between a quill and a regular feather," George stated.

"You only saw my quill. I put them in my books when I don't have a proper bookmark with me," pushed Hermione. George shook his head.

"Quills," said George, "generally have a tip for writing. I saw the bottom of your feather, not the top. There was no special writing tip; it was just a feather. Now, since it seems like we'll be at this for a while, why don't you have a seat?" Upon command, Hermione took a seat without a sign of hesitation. He waited until she was settled before she carried on, but the wait brief.

"Now, like I said earlier, I'd really like to save time by just having you tell me why you decided to prank me. Because honestly, I'm going to get it out of you eventually, and if you don't tell me soon, you'll never get around to your actual detention. I'd hate to have to assign you another detention to make up for it." Hermione stared at George incredulously, brows furrowed.

"Are you trying to coerce me into answering? Blackmailing me with threats of more detentions?" George thought about what she said. Was he really blackmailing her into answering something so trivial? 'Why did you prank me?' seemed frivolous to most perhaps, but not to George.

"No," concluded his thoughts. "I'm not blackmailing you. I'm being honest with you. You're actually serving this detention completely, but you're not serving it until I find out why you pranked me."

"And you're so unrelenting with the fact that it's me when you don't even have substantial evidence."

"Substantial evidence?" George laughed at Hermione's attempt to through him off. "I have plenty of that as we've been over. I know my pranks, Hermione, and all the signs of this prank point to you!" Hermione shook her head.

"Name one," Hermione dared. George opened his out instantly, but Hermione wasn't finished. "Name one besides the feather."

"Hermione, that's evidence enough," George pointed out. "If you really want me to point out everything that gave you away though, I'll go right ahead." He raised his eyebrows over to Hermione, and she pursed her lips in response. "You were the only one to block the powder from getting on you."

"I had my wand out already!" Hermione argued profusely, eyes fiery with infuriation. "Anyone with decent reflexes would have done the same!"

"So, you're trying to tell me that a whole class of advanced witches and wizards don't have decent reflexes? Harry Potter doesn't have-"

"That's not the point," Hermione intervened. "The point is that me blocking the powder isn't a logical reason why I did it."

George knew he was getting her to crack; he saw it in her eyes. Her points, her excuses, were growing weaker and less convincing, and they both knew it. They both knew that this moment was the moment where she would fall. George wouldn't even have to pull out any other evidence against her. He grinned, anticipating what he had been looking for all along.

"Why exactly did you prank me?" George asked slowly, pushing Hermione. Frustration consuming her, she pushed out her chair with deliberate force, standing up with passion.

"This isn't a game, George! You're a professor, and you shouldn't be abusing your powers just to annoy me! It was payback for the detentions, for embarrassing me in class in front of R-"

"What? Were you just going to say in front of-"

"Shut it!" Hermione interrupted. George looked at Hermione blankly, silently for a few moments. Before Hermione could exhale and relax, George piped up again quickly.

"You were going to say in front of Ron," accused George, but Hermione shook her head lividly in disagreement. "So, I was right, wasn't I? You are just pining over Ron."

"Don't," Hermione began to hiss, "talk about things you know nothing about. You couldn't even begin to comprehend anything going on between me and Ron which such a lack of a brain."

"So, there is something going on," George stated, choosing to ignore Hermione's insults.

"No! You're twisting my words into something they're not, George Weasley!"

"And you, the current Head Girl of Hogwarts, are pulling pranks on her Charms professor," George countered. "We're both guilty of something here."

Hermione shook her head and her lips moved, but what she muttered was inaudible to George. Overwhelming frustration plagued her as she alternated stretching her hands and clenching them.

"Excuse me?" George asked meaning for Hermione to repeat herself. Hermione wiped her eyes up with fury, interpreting that he was outraged with what she previously said.

"You heard me!" Hermione cried out unexpectedly. "You deserve worse than this prank! Anything to show you…"

"Show me what, Hermione?" George's voice matched hers in intensity. He supposed that their voices were echoing throughout the whole corridor, but he didn't care. "What? Not to mess with you?" Hermione looked at him smugly, angering him even more.

"Yes!' Hermione admitted triumphantly. "To show you why you shouldn't mess with Hermione Granger!"

"That's rich, Hermione, coming from you!"

"What? What is that supposed to mean?" Hermione's voice trembled as she quivered with anger. George shook his head and spoke with a contrasting composed tone.

"It means that you shouldn't mess with the best, Hermione. You shouldn't prank anyone who owns a successful joke shop. But you did anyways. You pushed the limits because that's what you do. You had to come up on top even if I didn't realize that it was you who brought me down. That's where you went wrong, Hermione. Because if you think I'm going to let you get away with pranking me, you've gone absolutely bonkers.

"You know, Hermione, you wanted to show me why I shouldn't mess with you, but in the end, you're just going to see why you should never mess with me. I'm not going to let this slip away into the back of my mind because Granger, this is war now."

* * *

"See you're making good use of all the secret passageways again, Georgie!" George closed the main door of Weasleys' Wizard Wheezes, absorbing the surroundings. There were very few things in life that gave George more pleasure than his and Fred's shop. The mayhem occurring simultaneously around and the bustle of the busy shoppers were comforting to him. This one place, even more than the Burrow, screamed out 'home' to George.

"You don't even seem surprised to see me," George noted from across the store. A toothy grin spread across Fred's as he hurried towards his brother. The two twins met in the direct middle of the store, standing mere feet apart from each other.

"It took me about thirty seconds after you left for Hogwarts for me to realize that we're just as mischievous as in the past-"

"-And that nothing would stop me from being here at the shop with you," finished George with an equally wide grin. At the same exact moment, both of the brothers lunged forward, engulfing the other in a hug.

"It's good to have you back," Fred said with a hint of loneliness trailing in his voice. Releasing his brother from the embrace, he took a step back.

"It's been over a week!" George exclaimed. "This is just unnatural!"

"A crime against nature!"

"Not to mention inhumane!" George concluded, feeling as if he never left home.

Escaping all of the commotion, the twins stepped aside into the backroom of the story, leaving the crowd to a very determined Verity. George stepped into the room and gazed around him; the moderate-sized break room that they were in looked exactly the same as when he left. Piles among piles of joke ideas and plan were messily stacked along the tables, only leaving ones circular table in the center of the dark room clean for eating lunch on.

"This place never changes," commented George as he closed the door, muting the noise from the shop. Pulling out a chair to sit in, Fred laughed, and his twin followed suit.

"Hate to bring up such a depressing subject, but how's the new job treating you, Professor?" George almost cringed at his brother's words. "Found the perfect line of work, eh?"

"No," sighed George. "I don't even know if I can joke about that. The only way I could be less qualified for a job would be if I had to invent a shampoo that would even make Snape's hair look irresistible. And I'm not even joking when I say that; that task is impossible."

"Detentions with Hermione aren't going as swimmingly as before then?"

"Fred," George address with a solemn look across his face. "What I'm about to tell you is very serious. And not in that way that we told Ron we had something serious to tell him as we slipped him our tester Canary Cream."

Fred raised his eyebrows to his twin, signaling for him to go on. "Fred, remember how we pledged war against Umbridge on the first week of our 7th year?"

"Of course. We really should thank her for unknowingly encouraging us to create some of our greatest products to date."

"We're officially at war again, Fred," George bluntly stated.

Fred was silent for a moment before hesitantly responding. "With Hermione? Don't you think that's extreme? We've always considered her a friend of sorts."

"You don't know what she did to me," George stated seriously.

"You sound heartbroken, Georgie. Don't fret, though. Hermione obviously favors the looks of trolls more. Ron's looks are nothing against ours." Fred smiled, unable to remain serious.

"No!" George protested. "She didn't break my heart, she pranked me! Fred, she pulled a prank on me. She put Chameleon Powder in my desk and set me up so I would open it up in class."

Fred looked flabbergasted. At the words of his brother, his mouth hung wide open. Shock imprinted itself onto is face, distorting his normal cheerful appearance.

"She pulled a prank on you?" Fred asked astounded. "It's official. She's amazing."

It was George's turn to be shocked. "She's not amazing," countered George, confused why he was arguing this with his brother of all people. "She's trying to beat me. Don't you understand?"

"Oh, well that's just not possible. Nobody beats us Weasleys at pranking. But any woman who dares to try is worthy of our worshiping. She has guts, my dear brother."

"Woman? Dare I remind you who we're talking about?" George couldn't believe the words coming out of his twin's ears. He sounded insane, mental, batty. Just to check, George looked around the room, making sure the objects around him weren't morphing away like they normally did when he figured out he was dreaming. Except for the twins, the room was absolutely motionless.

"Dare I remind you how she's nineteen?" Fred said, jolting George back to the conversation. "She may be a frumpy bookworm extraordinaire, but both technically and legally, she's a woman."

"Never mind that!" erupted George. "War was declared, and strategy needs to begin!" Doubtingly, Fred glanced at his brother.

"You're serious about this, then?" inquired Fred. "You really are out to get Hermione?"

"If you'll help me." George looked at his brother pleadingly, knowing he couldn't do this alone; George needed Fred to function, and the same was true for Fred. They weren't near complete without each other.

"Of course I'm helping!" Fred exclaimed, slightly excited expression slipping it's way back to his pale face. "What kind of twin would I be if I didn't?"

A wide grin spread across George's face, and immediately, he began to release ideas for pranks. He told Fred the whole story behind Hermione's prank and everything that happened at the subsequent detention. He even lifted up his shirt to reveal the last remaining dancing Pygmy Puff etched on his skin. The retelling of the event brought passion to George, inspiring dozens of tricks. Rambling on, George truly felt at home once again.

"…not that I want to unveil our new products primarily on Hermione, but it would be a good test before we put the line on the shelves, don't you think?" George stopped his banter, letting his twin have a turn to speak. All the response George had gotten from Fred so far was the occasional nod of the head or approving sound effect.

"You want to know what I think?" Fred asked despite knowing the answer already.

"That's is the point of talking to you about this," his twin pointed out. Anxious feelings started to boil over now, and George could barely stand it.

"I think you should wait a while before you do anything."

"Wait? Why would I ever wait?" Fred shook his head as if George was incompetent, but George couldn't figure out why. Should it be the other way around? Fred obviously didn't understand the concept of war anymore; George needed to fight back to win!

"Are you really this hopeless without me?" questioned Fred. When George didn't answer, he continued. "Where has the mind of the great prankster gone? Forge, you need to keep her on her feet!"

"What?"

"She'll expect you to attack soon, but you won't. Act responsible for a month, and your victory will be even sweeter."

And it clicked for George. Fred was right; Hermione expected George to retaliate and soon. Half the fun would be lost since she was anticipating it. If George made her believe that it wasn't going to happen by waiting, the victory would be even sweeter.

"I think you're on to something here, Gred…"

A smug look washed over Fred's face. "When haven't I been?"

* * *

**Author's Notes: **I'm so sorry about the delay in the update. Got caught up in the holiday madness, you know? Hopefully I'll have another chapter out much quicker.

Also, my email and internet started freaking out while some of you were reviewing. I tried to reply to you all to thank you and comment on your review, but I'm not sure which ones got through. So, sorry for that problem, and hopefully it won't happen again.

As always, a special thanks to my reviewers! **Nutters4Potter**,** Deevee White**, and** Tillypie**: that means you! Also, thank you to everyone who has subscribed or favorited this. All of you guys are wonderful!

**Reviews are appreciated! I'll get back to you on any questions or comments.**


	12. The Waiting Game

**Author's Notes: **Let me start off with a HUGE apology for that month that went without update. I have legitimate reasons for the delay, but I won't go into them right now… much too complicated. Just PLEASE bare with me until I get all of my personal drama sorted out and I get back into a regular, frequent posting schedule. I should be posting at least once a week very soon, and I'm aiming for posting more frequently than that. Try not to loose faith in me just yet!

**Chapter Twelve: the Waiting Game**

When a week went by and George hadn't even hinted at this retaliation, this "war" he had previously swore would happen, Hermione's curiosity got the best of her. Due to the obvious reasons, she knew that George wasn't out of ideas of pranks. The thought of that was just preposterous. Wondering constantly, Hermione tried to think of legitimate excuses for why she hadn't been attacked; nothing even came to mind. She was perturbed in his presence, just thinking about what moves he would slyly pull as she sat in his class, and she was even more bothered by the idea when he was absent. George knew Hogwarts like he knew his own twin. It would have been considerably simple for him to sneak up on Hermione. Ten days eventually went by with nothing but a few cold greetings from her youngest professor.

"Maybe he's finally realized that he needs to take his job seriously," Hermione suggested to Ginny one lazy afternoon. After the showdown at the last detention, Hermione had opted out of telling Harry and Ron about the events; Harry would have, after all, played a role reversal and object, and Hermione still failed to be on pleasant terms with Ron. Ginny was the remaining good friend that she could trust, and they practically began scheming mischievously within minutes after Hermione told her. Ginny too had been perplexed by her brother's antics. She knew George, and he normally would have acted by now. "The sooner he realizes how immature pranking is a school environment, the better."

"But Hermione, you just pranked George not too long ago," Ginny pointed out with a hint of teasing. "Are you suggesting that George is above you and by far more mature than you?"

Hermione's complexion deepened momentarily, flustered from Ginny's response. In an almost instant recovery, her cheeks' color waned as Hermione sat up straight as if to redeem herself. "You're ridiculous, Ginny. You know what I mean." But was the notion truly ridiculous? Hermione was the one, the catalyst of this so-called war. Hermione pushed the concept out of her head before it got the best of her.

When ten days doubled and then tripled into a solid month free of mischief, Hermione was clueless with what was happening. Every time she saw George was a constant reminder of his threat and warning, but he never even acting on it in the slightest. George even refrained from giving Hermione any form of detention that whole month. Relieved but puzzled, she tried reasoning with Ginny every once in a while, but more important things began to happen at Hogwarts than an empty threat.

In that one month, Ron and Hermione finally made amends, and they did in a quicker amount of time than normal. Harry aided the process along, insisting that they needed a normal year of bliss before they left Hogwarts. It was three weeks into the year when they both approached each other after being incised by their best friend. Eminent was the fact that neither meant their apologies, but they resisted their stubbornness much to the relief of Ginny, who had been dealing with a slightly upset boyfriend throughout the whole ordeal.

At the very end of that month, all the Gryffindors cursed fate as Malfoy returned to school. Claiming that he had family business to attend to before he returned, Malfoy strutted into Charms one ill-fated morning. Rumors that held more truths than falsehoods went around campus when he arrived late claiming that he and his family were too cowardly to let him return at first. Hermione suspected that he only returned so he could build up a name not associated with Death Eaters: it was a simple gesture to show people that they didn't need to want to kill him anymore. No Death Eater would return to Hogwarts at this point, and Draco Malfoy was out to prove his "innocence".

"I don't care what he is," Ron commented as Malfoy sauntered out of Transfiguration, shoving Ron out of his way. "As a Death Eater, he was a arrogant git, and he's still the same git now." His three friends grumbled in incomprehensible tones as they quickly escaped the classroom proximities.

"Only difference now is that now he's a pansy," Harry pointed out as he grabbed Ginny's hand and they all stepped out of McGonagall's range of hearing.

"No Harry," Hermione objected, "I think you understood the subject. We're talking about Malfoy; he's always been a pansy."

Without notice, another month came and went, along with Halloween and Hermione's thoughts about the war. It occurred to Hermione sometime rather late along the way that George was just bluffing the whole time. The talks she once had with Ginny about the subject had recently diminished so greatly that they were practically nonexistent. Without realizing it, Hermione just pushed the threat out of her mind, making George just an unreasonably cold teacher. Whenever he talked to Hermione in class, an unpleasant gloom swiped across his features, and Hermione suspected the same happened to her. Not a single student pondered why they seemed to dislike each other; everyone just assumed that they had always been that way. After all, at first glance, their personalities just clashed harshly.

* * *

Okay, so maybe Fred only suggested that they let a couple of months go by so George could cool down. After all, George was livid when he first approached his brother. Fred tried avoiding all possible regrets that seriously pranking Hermione might bring; the consequences raced around in Fred's mind, uncharacteristically telling him that this might not be the best approach to getting on Hermione's nerves. And so, on the spot, Fred suggested that they wait to attack. It was a phenomenal tactic that they picked up over the years that instantly made pranks more successful, so George didn't pick up on Fred's ways whatsoever.

George never calmed down, though; months later, far after Hermione had forgotten that her professor had once threatened her, he was still relentlessly outraged. At least once a week, George escaped from his classes and duties to meet up with his brother, and Fred always knew he thought about it still. A certain gleam in George's eyes told Fred how his brother longed to strike; after so long without pulling a single practical joke, it was understandable that George wanted to rekindle his joking spirit. What better target could he had found than Hermione Granger? And for this reason, the sharp level of intensity, of rage, had not once died down. His heart longed for jokes, for pranks, for revenge. Fred knew what had to be done.

"Hey George?" Fred piped up as he finished the last of is butterbeer at the Three Broomsticks one chilly evening. The frost outside danced around gaily, flurrying against the thick glass windows of the pub. Swiveling around on his stool, Fred faced his twin head on.

"Yeah?" responded George, not entirely paying attention. In his hands, he held a half-empty mug of butterbeer, swishing it around aimlessly as it foamed. Fred loudly, but unknowingly, placed his own mug down rather loudly causing George to jump slightly from the noise.

"I think it's about time." George slowly placed his own mug down as a smile began swelling across his face. Unnecessarily, Fred continued on. "Time for 'the war' to begin. Don't you say?"

"Freddie, you don't realize how long I've been waiting to hear that." The funny part is that he did know. Fred, although he didn't exactly approve of lashing out against their friend, knew it was time and that George would have eventually started on his own soon anyways. And what kind of twin would Fred he if he didn't join? He might as well join in on the inevitable fun.

* * *

**Author's Notes:** Okay, so I know this is a filler chapter… but it's important to the story! The next chapters, obviously, are going to be a lot of fun. The war is definitely coming soon!

A special thanks to all my reviewers: **Nutters4Potter**, **Deevee White**, and **Binka Fudge**! Also, thank you to those who have subscribed or favorited me.

Now, before things have even started… **who do you want to win the prank war**? I'm just really curious whom everyone is siding with at this point.

Just remember- things aren't always fun and games when it comes to war.


	13. Wiggenweld Potion

**Author's Notes:** Longest chapter yet! Maybe this will make up for the very long delay in the update. I've been sick at home all week, so I've been groggily working on this for many hours! Also, I have a new, upcoming story in mind! If you'd like to read a small description for it, check out my profile. I'd love to know what you all think of the idea!

* * *

**Chapter Thirteen: Wiggenweld Potion**

"Hermione, aren't you hungry?" The Great Hall bustled with excitement of a new day, students eagerly devouring vast assortments of breakfast foods. Hermione looked up from her clean plate to her friend Ginny. Quickly, she nodded her head, provoking confusion in Ginny.

"I'm starving," Hermione explained, "but I'm really not in the mood to eat anything. Does that make sense?" Ginny shook her head, turning to her breakfast. Maybe Hermione was just too tired to make sense. In the Weasley household, you just ate when you were hungry; what you were in the mood for was barely a factor in the matter.

"Well you can't spend forever just deciding what you're going to eat!" Ron hollered while he reloaded his plate with sustenance hastily.

Hermione sighed heavily at Ron's response. "I'm just so indecisive when I'm tired, Ron," She said as she scanned across the table for something that caught her eye. "And I'm tired until-"

"Until you've eaten," Ron finished as he eagerly scooped more eggs onto his plate. "We all know, Hermione. But you have to help me this morning!" Hermione's eyes snapped from the food to Ron. When had he even asked her to help him with anything, let alone have her agree to help? Hermione's eyes narrowed, but he didn't notice; he was too consumed with practically inhaling the contents of his plate. Both acts were typical behavior from Ron, but Hermione had been hoping for months that this year he would change a little. They were adults now, technically, and maybe it was time that he stopped acting like a first year.

"I never agreed to helping you with anything, Ron." He stopped indulging himself momentarily to look at Hermione, eyes pleading.

Schoolwork. Bingo, just what Hermione had expected.

"But Hermione," he begged in an all-too-familiar tone, "You know how helpless I get when it comes to essays!"

"Can't it wait? We have a free period later this afternoon."

"But we have Transfiguration before our free period, Hermione!" Hermione's jar almost literally dropped. They had Transfiguration second that morning. Did Ron actually expect to get her help and have time to write the essay within that time frame? Of course not; he expected _Hermione_ to write it.

"Ron, maybe you need to learn to stop depending on me so much," Hermione calmly told her friend. Harry slowly approached the table as Hermione said this. He was on autopilot as he sat down next to Ginny and stuffed a piece of dry toast into his mouth.

"You know I can't function without you, Hermione. Can I, Harry?" Harry looked over to Ron, grunting an incomprehensible response. "See, Harry agrees!"

"I really don't have the time to help you, Ron," Hermione insisted, hoping this might encourage Ron to do his own work more often. He really did solely depend on her when it came to schoolwork. She knew he had the potential to do it all on his own, too; maybe that's what bothered Hermione the most about it.

Ron completely put aside his food, and Hermione knew he was about to attack with a fatal move. "I'm dead without your help, Mione! I need you." And that's the line that always got Hermione: I need you. In the end, how could Hermione resist a best friend in need? Pity running through her veins, Hermione made eye contact with Ron. He smiled a soft smile at her before she gave in.

"I have my outline notes with me. I'll let you use them, but only if you promise me that you'll write your next essay on your own."

"Don't worry, Hermione. You have my word." They both knew this was a promise he was destined to break, but neither acknowledged the fact. Groggily, Hermione fumbled through her bag, hunting for the parchment for Ron. After a short minute of searching, Hermione slid the paper directly across the table to him.

"Make sure not to use the same order of topics, Ron," Hermione warned as she finally decided on food; she picked up a large apple and filled her goblet full of golden pumpkin juice. She took a hearty bite into the crimson apple, slowly letting the ripe juices flow onto her fingers. It always took Hermione a long time to make the right choice in the morning, but when she did, it was always the right one.

Ron didn't hesitate to pick up the long outline covering various accomplished Animagi. "Hermione, I don't know how I could write this paper without you," confessed Ron as he held the outline up as if admiring a trophy.

"Well well," a familiar voice approached them, "What do we have here?" Hermione looked over her shoulder and saw him, towering lazily above her. Quickly, she whipped her head back around as if avoiding him would mean he wasn't truly there.

"My, I thought the brightest witch of 'the age' would realize how unwise it would be to cheat."

"Cut it out, George," Ginny mumbled, annoyed with her older brother's presence. "She's just helping out Ron."

"Technically cheating," George pointed out as he drew closer towards the table. Slowly, he put his firm hand down next to Hermione and leaned on the table, hardly looking like a professor. "But you know I'd never get you guys into trouble… after all, what kind of brother would I be if I did?"

"You're normal self?" snorted Ron.

"Hey, I resent that! Other than a few things here and there, I've been a perfectly adequate brother. More than so, even! But that's besides the point." George looked down, straight at Hermione. Unwillingly, she looked over to him as their eyes locked. "The point is that if I were you, Hermione, I'd be a little more careful."

"Sorry?" she asked, confused at why he was speaking to her.

"I mean, supplying answers is cheating, though I'm sure you know that. What if I wasn't me? What if I was Snape walking by? Next time, if I were you, I'd-" George stopped mid sentence to lean in a fraction of an inch closer. He didn't blink, but something in his eyes got grimly serious in that moment. "-watch out."

With that, George boyishly made his exit, ruffling Ginny's auburn hair as he passed. Hermione, still puzzled at George's encounter, the shook the thought of the moment off as she drank her entire pumpkin juice in one gulp.

"I'd like to say he was just going insane from withdrawal from Fred, but this is watered down compared to his normal self." Messily, Ron pulled out fresh parchment, ending his procrastination and the conversation. Hermione took this moment as her queue to depart, promising both of her friends without a glance back that she would meet with them in the Gryffindor common room before heading off to their first class of the day together.

As Hermione took her leave, a strange sensation overwhelmed her that was all too familiar. Nevertheless, when someone is staring you down, you always have that one, fresh compulsion to see whom. While walking, Hermione glanced over her shoulder in the way of the High Table. Instincts kicked in, telling her it was George, but when she looked at him, he was consumed in rich storytelling among other professors. She took her eyes off the grin across his face as she found the actual perpetrator: Snape. A blush spread across Hermione's face as she wiped her head around and quickened her pace until she was out and way from the Great Hall.

Shoes clanking against the aging floor of the corridors, Hermione made her way towards the Gryffindor tower so she could grab her supplies before class. She did, though, have a plethora of time before she even needed to think about making her way to class. Steadily, her pace softened into a leisurely stroll. She shuffled down the halls with nothing better to do than to admire the architecture that she had admired countless times before.

She did have Snape on her mind, though. Hermione couldn't help but wonder why he had been staring at her while she was exiting the Great Hall. Had she done something wrong? What if Snape had seen Hermione giving the outline to Ron? Actually, from the distance he was from their spot at the table, it would be nearly impossible to know what had gone on between her and Ron. Besides, Snape would have immediately approached the two if he suspected they were cheating. Even so, George was right; maybe she should be more careful.

"George," Hermione faintly scowled under her breathe as walked up a flight of stairs. The questions running through her mind, racing at immeasurable speeds, briefly transitioned into thoughts about George. What was up with him? When he was close to Hermione, he saw something in his eye, something that was hard to ignore; he was up to something. Hermione had no idea the enormity of what he was boiling up, but she knew something was happening.

"Hermione!" Snapping out of her trance, Hermione walked up to the Fat Lady and greeted the begging face that she had see so many times before at this exact spot.

"It's 'Yiddish', Neville," Hermione stated bluntly. "The password is 'Yiddish'." The Fat Lady rolled her eyes as she slowly swung open. The two friends climbed inside together, Neville shaking his head in disbelief.

"It's been a while since I've done that." Hermione glanced at him curiously for a moment before realizing that it actually had; looking back, she hadn't had to let him in to the Gryffindor common room all year. Neville, noticing the mystification radiating from Hermione, spoke up again. "All during last year, I had to learn to depend on myself. There weren't as many people at Hogwarts to help me as there'd been before. Back then, I needed to be the one helping the younger students out."

"And that included memorizing the password?" Neville nodded as he turned to make his way up to his own dormitory.

"I've gotten pretty good at it too," he called over his shoulder. "But Snape gave me a detention last time the passwords were distributed, and this morning I realized that nobody ever told me it. I don't even know what the detention was for. I don't have his class anymore!"

"He was probably just picking a fight. You know how he is." Hermione offered a warm smile as she looked over, but Neville was already gone. Sighing, she trudged up the familiar staircase, legs mindlessly leading her into her dormitory.

And with that, Hermione had Snape on her mind once more.

Roughly an hour later, while Harry and Ron lounged in the common room lazily, they began to wonder where Hermione even was. It was thirty minutes until class actually began, but Hermione usually met her friends early so they could talk for ten minutes before they had to lug their books off to class.

"Do you think she forgot about us?" Harry asked Ron. He shifted in his seat as Ron shrugged. An eerie lull of silenced flowed throughout the room before the loud pound of footsteps descending the stairs erupted.

"Of course I didn't forget!" Hermione smiled cheerfully as she approached Harry and Ron with books in hand. "Ready to go then?"

Harry shared a confused look with Ron before facing Hermione again. "But class starts in half an hour." When Hermione's face failed to falter, Harry continued explaining. "It only takes us ten minutes to get to class."

"Thirteen," Hermione corrected her raven-haired friend. "It takes thirteen minutes. We should leave now!" Harry and Ron, to avoid further arguments, both got up and began walking with Hermione to class early. Of course it was a well-known fact that Hermione enjoyed learning, but her excitement was still peculiar.

"Did you see what happened to Terry Boot?" Ron asked conversationally as they climbing through the portrait hole, passing some loitering third years on the way out. Hermione scoffed as she continued to walk forward. "What?" he harshly demanded.

"Gossip is so juvenile, Ron."

"I was starting a conversation!" Ron fumed. "What else should I talk about it school? It's not like there is anything better to do."

Harry could tell it was going to be one of those days. "Just leave it, guys," he begged, and to his surprise, everyone continued on in a short, awkward silence. Harry exhaled in a sigh of relief as the trio marched on.

Hermione couldn't stop thinking as they turned through the winding corridors. They passed other students, ghosts, and countless portraits, but none of them distracted Hermione from her thoughts. Suddenly, as a huge grin spread across her face, she broke the silence.

"Do you realize what day it is?" Hermione asked her friends enthusiastically as she merrily bounced down the hallway. Both of her best friends exchanged exasperated looks. Of course they knew what day it was. They didn't have the time to heave the long-awaited heavy sigh; Hermione answered her own question. "It's Tuesday! And that means we have Potions first today!"

Harry and Ron stopped shadowing Hermione as the shock of what she said hit them. Their jaws dropped simultaneously, both sure they misheard Hermione's words.

"Hermione," Ron started slowly, "why are so chipper about seeing Snape?" Hermione turned her head to answer, but she found that she was a good fifteen yards ahead of her friends. Rotating around, she began to approach her friends.

"Well, I suppose I'm just happy because I thought it was Monday."

"And Potions is better than-" Harry stopped speaking when it hit him. Taking one big step, Harry shortened the distance between he and his good friend. If it was Monday, they would have been heading to Charms.

"You're not still upset with George for what happened at the beginning of the year, are you?" Harry asked Hermione.

"It's just not my favorite class," Hermione pushed. "I prefer the complexity of potions, even if Snape teaches it."

"I really thought she was mental before," Ron whispered to Harry as they began walking again, "but now she needs to be put on high priority at St. Mungo's." Hermione heard Ron clearly, but she chose to ignore the comment.

As they walked into the near empty classroom, Hermione distanced herself from her friends, eagerly approaching her seat. Snape, upon hearing the noise, turned around slowly, body creaking with every inch.

"Well," he began, curling his lip, "what brings you three in so unpleasantly early?" His students, though used to his harsh tone, still stiffened at the sound of his voice. "If you two dunderheads came for remedial potions help, I'm afraid I can't help you; the only way to help you two would be to go back in time and stop whomever dropped you on your heads as infants."

"Sir," Hermione intervened quickly before he could insult her, "Not to be rude, but they aren't here for help."

"Oh?" Hermione nodded meekly, almost withdrawn toward her professor. She avoided eye contact until the silence of the room got to her. Breifly their eyes met. Hermione blushes.

"Pity," Snape said, sarcasm flowing from his tongue.

"We just didn't want to be late for class." Snape raised his eyebrows before growling dangerously low.

"Now listen here. I'm not as foolish as you think, and it's obvious that you're up to something. Over the past seven years, you three have caused this school more trouble than the Dark Lord himself." Harry, triggered by his professor's words, almost had to physically restrain himself from assaulting Snape. "Incase you haven't forgotten, I have the authorities to punish each and every one of you from now until you graduate. Forget every Hogsmede weekend, forget your free periods."

With that, Snape turned around, shoes clicking on the cold stone floor as he made his way to his desk. Focused, he turned his head down to an unknown array of papers leaving Harry, Ron, and Hermione awkwardly standing by the door.

"Bloody hell, what's his problem?" Ron murmured to friends, scorn furrowing into his facial features.

"Well, we are always up to something," Hermione contributed. "Why shouldn't he suspect us?"

"But we're not doing anything," Ron emphasized.

Hermione's eyes narrowed with vexation. "If I were a teacher, I would have acted likewise."

"You would verbally harass your students? Hermione, we show up early to class and he attacks us for it like we did something wrong!" Ron's outrage shone through his hushed tone.

"This is Snape we're talking about," Harry interjected with a whisper. "He seems cheerful compared to normal today."

"Can we just drop this?" Hermione forced, moving away from her friends.

It seemed like all they three of them ever did was fight. Ron would say something, and Hermione would disagree, not afraid to voice her opinion. Right before anything spiraled out of control, Harry would interrupt, but the time afterwards always seemed tense. It was increasingly rare that they would actually enjoy ones' company. Following the typical blueprint for such occasions, Harry, Ron, and Hermione wordless sat down, all more uncomfortable with the situation than when Snape had been insulting them.

Minutes slipped away unnoticed before Harry and Ron casually started a conversation about the recent quidditch match between Ravenclaw and Slytherin. Without wasting time, they enthusiastically brought up strategies for defeating both teams; they would play again Slytherin next.

Lost in her thoughts, Hermione's awareness slowly drifted away uncharacteristically. She pulled out a fresh book, but her eyes couldn't focus on the letters. Even if they had been capable of focusing, her mind wouldn't have been able to process. Ever since that morning, her mind had been running wild. She couldn't stop thinking about breakfast and the way he looked at her… and the way she liked it. It was so harsh, so pure. Their encounter had been short, but Hermione knew there was something more behind it.

But then there was the other look she received that unnerved Hermione; it was harsh as well, but she felt nothing but hatred behind it. What had she done to deserve that look this morning? Was it Hermione helping Ron cheat, or was it something more?

"Harry," Hermione whispered, nudging her friend softly and herself back into reality. Harry stopped mid sentence, words abruptly halting. Curiously, he looked over to his friend, eyes, beckoning her to continue.

"Have you noticed anything with Snape this morning?" Harry blinked rapidly as if his eyes were processing Hermione's words by taking pictures of them.

"Well," he began, looking back over to Ron, "I dunno." Harry's eyes returned to Hermione after he noticed that Ron wasn't even aware that Harry stopped talking sports; he was too busy mapping out a new move to execute on Slytherin's weak keeper.

"What you mean, you "dunno"?"

"Well, I don't exactly know what you're asking…"

"Snape," Hermione reiterated. "Has he been acting," she paused slightly, thinking of the harsh look from breakfast, "different?"

"No?"

"Towards me?" Hermione continued, adding onto her original question. When Harry's answer didn't change, Hermione sighed, lowering her voice even quieter than before. "Harry, please try not to be clueless now! Has Snape been staring at me?"

"Staring?" Hermione leaned over, looking at Ron. He just was picking up on the conversation since he was done with this formation plans for the next game.

"Yes Ronald, staring!"

"Hermione, he hasn't looked over here at all," the redhead informed her, and Harry instantly agreed. Hermione didn't want to accept this answer from someone so inattentive.

"Can you make sure he isn't?" Hermione asked, looking straight at Harry. His emerald eyes flashed a hint of uncertainty.

"What?"

"Check Harry, check!"

"I don't understand what you want him to check!" inputted Ron.

"Check to make sure he isn't staring at me right now." Hermione added in her mind that it was to check to see if he was giving her another one of those looks from breakfast. Her mind was on high alert.

"Why don't you check yourself?"

"Ron, that defeats the purpose. He can't know I know that he's looking at me."

"Hermione, he's not looking over here," Harry informed her wearily. "He hasn't glanced up from his desk since he sat down. Why would he be staring at you anyways?"

"Never mind," Hermione muttered, not wanting to go into it. It was a miracle Snape hasn't heard their conversation already, and Hermione didn't want that to change in the middle of her explanation. Hermione cleared her throat and shot her hand in the air partly to avoid this conversation with her friends. "Professor?" Hermione spoke up.

"What?" Snape's eyes didn't leave his desk.

"Do you mind telling me what we're working on today?"

"Oh, you mean you don't already know?" he drawled with snide. "I've always known there was no way you could be the 'brightest witch of the century' or whatever other falsehoods my colleagues have been claiming."

"Sir, please." A blush lingered on Hermione's face. "It was only a question."

"Last week we worked on the Draught of the Living Dead. Naturally we would be proceeding into the Wiggenweld Potion."

"Right," Hermione said embarrassed. Of course they would be working on the potion used to heal the Draught of the Living Dead. As the flushed complexion started to fade form her face, a couple of loud Slytherins made their way into the classroom. Hermione took take opportunity to fade away and to stop embarrassing herself.

Briefly, Harry and Ron eyed Hermione before picking up their lost discussion. They added Ginny into the chat a few minutes later as Hermione made room for her friend between herself and Harry. The quidditch talk was yet again put to a halt as Snape called the class to attention. He droned on about the potion for a short amount of time before instructing the class to get into pairs.

"Ms. Weasley," Snape enunciated. Ginny's head tilted up quickly, eyes meeting her professor's. In almost a sly-like manner, Snape smirked.

"What ever happened to brotherly love? Or in this case, sisterly and brotherly love?"

Ginny put down the salamander blood she had gathered. The vial, placed on an unseen incline, glided around swiftly on the table, crimson blood spiraling silently in its container. Harry, always keen with his senses, caught the vial mere moments after it slid off the table.

"I'm sorry sir," Ginny contributed, mind distracted from nearly shattering the vial, "but is that supposed to be rhetorical?"

Snape groaned, perhaps out of the perceived slowness of his highest-level students. "Ms. Weasley, maybe it would be keen to assist your imbecile of a brother, yes? You could possibly save your mother from yet another disappointment."

Ginny wanted to object, but she knew there was no used fighting. Wordlessly, she switched partners in a dance, changing from Harry to Ron. Hermione wordlessly swapped as well, fully aware that she received the better end of the deal; Harry had more immediate knowledge of potions than Ron did.

"Where were you?" Hermione asked her new partner. Quickly, as if they needed to make up for lost time, Harry prattled off the few things he had already accomplished in the potion. Nodding, she took in all the information, noting what consequent steps they needed to take.

With steams of fresh potions filling the air, Hermione began shredding the dittany, prepping the substance for one of the three mixtures needed to eventually combine and compose the potion. She had been preparing the harmful, detrimental third of the potion while Harry combined the mild base to the potion. Together, they would prepare the last third, which was the most complicated of the three, before boiling the three parts together in a cauldron.

Hermione halted the swift, sharp movements of her knife, pausing for a moment. It plagued upon Hermione even more than before. Without the ability to restrain her own self, Hermione gave into her urges, glancing up at her professor who was ardently examining his students for mistakes. He wasn't looking at her.

Suddenly, with an extreme flow of compulsions, Hermione felt the need to act. Lightheadedness was consuming her thoughts as she longed to do something. The room was spinning, and potions seemed obsolete. The mission became set in Hermione's mind, and she knew just how to begin.

Eagerly, Hermione dropped her knife and picked up to concoction she had been working on for the Wiggenweld potion. The fire-red substance was incomplete, but this was all the better; it was more unstable that way. She had to act fast before someone would notice what she was doing. With a fervent passion gleaming through her eyes, Hermione readied to pelt the mixture onto the ground.

Harry always was keen to the senses, though, and he instantaneously detected the change in Hermione's movements. In the blink of an eye, he had dropped what he was working on and placed his hands on Hermione's work.

"What are you doing?" Harry hissed trying to avoid any attention from the rest of the class.

"I'm breaking this on the ground, Harry." Harry's eyes, widened with shock, were partially covered by steam on his glasses from their cauldron.

"You're going to hurt someone!"

"It'll only be temporary," Hermione insisted. She tugged lightly on the container, but Harry's hands didn't budge. "I need to do this."

"Why?" Harry demanded, voice low and steady. He didn't bother waiting for a response from Hermione before trying to reason with her. "You're going to get a detention from Snape if you do this!"

"Exactly! This is the perfect way to get a detention."

Eyebrows raised, Harry deftly shifted a hand and clutched Hermione's arm to keep her from moving. "Are you mad?" An incredulous look radiated across his face. "Why do you want a detention, and why would you even consider wanting one with Snape?"

Hermione's eyes plead genuinely. "Let me do this, Harry!" Profusely, Harry refused, confused at what was even happening. "You don't understand, Harry! You don't see him like I do!"

Harry's grip softened, and his hands now only grazed his friend's skin. "What are you talking about?"

Hermione took the plunge; it was now or never. "I want him."

Baffled, Harry completely let go of Hermione. It took Harry a moment to stutter in response. "To d-do what?"

"That's it, Harry. I just want him."

"WHAT?" Neither of the two had noticed that Harry had take Hermione's mixture completely away from her until it crashed to the ground from Harry's shock. Not hesitating to infect, the liquid from the container oozed over their feet, sizzling in an unforgiving way. Harry screamed out in pain, doubling over to the ground and accidentally sticking his hand in the mess. The powerful sting shocked Hermione too much to scream.

"Fools!" Snape yelled from across the class, storming over to their table. Hastily, he drew his wand, and with an elegant swish, the potion on the floor was up in the air. The previously shattered contain flew above the students heads and reassembled itself around the floating potion.

Large welts and boils, festering quickly, appeared across Harry's large hands. The class gasped out of shock, too immersed in the situation to begin murmuring. With pain written across their faces, Hermione and Harry looked down. The potion burned through their shoes. Agonizing blister now took the place of the shoes.

"Forty points from Gryffindor!" hollered Snape, adding more pain to the incident. "Off to the Hospital wing before one of you dunderheads manages to kill us all! Go!" The two students didn't even bother picking up their bags before scurrying out of the class, escaping the hostile room.

"Merlin, Hermione!" Harry yelled as soon as they were out. "What were you thinking?"

"I didn't drop it!" Hermione winced and hissed loudly in pain as they walked through the dungeons to the staircase.

"But you were going to. And for what?" Harry's voice echoed throughout the corridor, bouncing off the walls and attacking Hermione.

"I need that detention, Harry!" Hermione stormed up a flight of stairs with Harry quickly following. They were running at an impeccable speed for having burning welts cover their feet. "You have to help me with that…" Gradually, her pace slowed down into a steady walk.

"Harry, I need to go back. I have to spend time with Snape." Harry stopped moving, but he didn't say a word. "I think I'm in love with him."

"Hermione," Harry rotated around and faced her. "You're not in love with him."

"Yes, I am!"

"No Hermione," he said calmly. "You just think you are. Now I remember why this is familiar. I've seen this before… remember in our sixth year with Ron?" Hermione gasped and brought her hands up, covering her mouth.

"Ron likes Snape?" Hermione always had the impression that Ron had feelings for her. News otherwise was shocking to her, and this news was the most shocking imaginable. "I thought Ron was heterosexual!"

"He is! Ron didn't like Snape, Ron liked Romilda!"

Hermione, unable to see the connection between the two events, remained silent. Harry sighed and tried to find another approach to make her understand.

"When did you start, well, feeling this way about Snape?" Harry asked. Awkwardly, Hermione paused. It hadn't been too long only since...

"This morning." Hermione looked back further. "I think I realized sometime after breakfast. It was the way he looked at me."

"So someone must have slipped it during breakfast," Harry murmured to himself. Taking a step towards Hermione, pain from the boils contorting his features, he raised his voice. "It's a love potion, Hermione."

Hermione blinked several times before responding. "What? That's impossible, Harry."

"But you hate Snape," Harry pointed out. "Now, you're suddenly convinced you two are the perfect couple. You're acting exactly like Ron had when he ate the chocolates Romilda spiked. You don't really love Snape. Someone made you love Snape."

Hermione's thoughts almost went silent; a love potion? No, it was improbable and out of the question. Who would have even slipped her a love potion? She had been next to Harry all breakfast. Surely he or one of her other friends would have noticed a Slytherin slipping her a love potion. There had only been one person who came up to the table while she was eating.

And then it all made sense.

"That git!" Hermione yelled, startling Harry. Her thoughts had led her to the answer, and now, she had to act. Instantly, she changed her direction, heading to the third floor classrooms instead of the Hospital wing.

"Hermione!" Harry called out from down the hall. "Where are you going? We have to get to the Hospital wing!"

"Not now!" Hermione was enraged and on a mission. "I'll meet you there in 10 minutes!"

Hermione stormed through the hallways, ignoring all pain from her feet. The portraits stared as she passed by, and some yelled at her for running through the halls. She did her best to ignore them, though, as she made her way to George's classroom.

She didn't bother knocking before barging into the classroom. George had a class, and he was overseeing their use of Cheering Charms. Silently, a handful of third years stopped what they were doing to stare.

"You!" Hermione exploded. Her face was red with frustration as she stomped closer to George. "I know what you did!"

George's face twisted with perplexity. "Ms. Granger, I'm in the middle of class right-"

"No! You're going to tell me right now why you did that to me!" Hermione winced as she stopped walking, pain in her feet settling in. She hissed a loud noise as a stinging sensation shot through her body.

"Hermione?" George took a small step forward before seeing her feet. Eyes widened, he addressed the class. "Class dismissed. I need to get Ms. Granger to the Hospital wing. This lesson will be continued next week."

"I can get there myself!" Hermione protested, but the class had already emptied, not willing to give up the chance of a free period. Silently, the two stood there, alone in George's classroom.

George was the first to shift. "Those look serious, Hermione," said George, gesturing Hermione to follow him. She didn't move. Sighing, he leaned against the door. "How did this happen?"

"It's your fault! I was in potions-"

"I'm fairly certain I didn't shoot a Furnunculus hex at your feet while you were in potions."

"It was all because of your stupid love potion!" George smile morphed into a frown.

"Ron was too annoyed with having you love him at he cast a hex on you?"

"Ron wasn't annoyed that I was in love with him! Harry tried-"

"Wait," George interrupted her once more. His jaw dropped slightly from his own thoughts. "Did Ginny cast the hex on you because you loved Harry?"

"Enough with the hexes!" Hermione ran her hand through her knotted hair, pushing it away from her eyes. "Nobody hexed me, George!" She took a tiny step forward, but the pain was too much; wordlessly, Hermione collapsed to the ground. Before she had time to look up, she felt a large pair of hands grab her, hoisting her up into his arms.

"Put me down!" Hermione ordered. With a moderate pace, George lifted her out of the classroom. He looked straight ahead with determination.

"You need to get to the Hospital wing now, Hermione." Worry bled through his tone, but Hermione took this as no reason to give in. She attempted to kick and struggle, but the sting of her feet hitting George was too much. Limply, she argued back.

"I need you to put me down and tell me-"

"We can talk on the way." With aggravation, Hermione huffed loudly. "There are more important things than me giving you a love potion."

"So," Hermione's voiced raised with accusation, "you gave it to me then?"

"I thought we already established this."

"We haven't."

George exhaled noisily, annoyed with her antics. "Yes, Hermione, I slipped you a love potion today during breakfast. I put it into your pumpkin juice when I can up to the table." The pair approached a set of staircases, but George paused before ascending. "You're going to have to calm down unless you want me to drop you down the stairs."

"Are you threatening me?"

"No," George admitted. "I'm saying that it's hard to focus on walking up these while you're screaming in my ear. I'm going to trip unless you relax for a minute."

"Relaxing," enunciated Hermione, "is not an option! You wouldn't be relaxing if you had unwelcome romantic feelings for Snape!" With a loud thud, Hermione dropped to the ground as George's arms gave away.

"Oh shit Hermione!" George yelled, scrambling to pick her up. "I'm so sorry!"

"Don't touch me!" George raised his hands in defeat as he backed away from Hermione. Moaning from pain, she pushed herself up until she was standing and staring at George. "What was that for?"

"I didn't mean to!" George took a step towards Hermione, but she took a step away from him. "How did you not look at Harry or Ron in the eyes before you looked at Snape?"

"Excuse me?"

"The potion made you love and obsess over whoever you made eye contact with next. Of the opposite sex, of course. And out of all of the people to fall in love with in the Great Hall, you looked at Snape!" George stifled a boisterous laugh, but Hermione was not amused. "This is rich!"

"It is not rich! I tried to smash a dangerous component of the potion we were working on so he would give me a detention! I got these," Hermione harshly pointed at her feet, "because I wanted to spend time with him!"

"I just wanted you to fall in love with Ron," George continued with a grin. "I didn't even think of Snape! Oh, this couldn't be better."

"It could be better if I hadn't made a fool of myself in class! It could be better if I didn't have festering blisters covering my feet!"

"Right," George admitted, snapping back to the reality of the situation. "Quick, get into my arms."

Outrage consumed Hermione's face. "I will not get into your arms!"

"Don't flatter yourself, Hermione. I'm not longing to hold you in my arms, you just need to get to the Hospital wing."

"Not in your arms! You've already dropped me once!" Rushing up the staircase, Hermione began heading towards the Hospital win again. "You can leave now!" She glanced over her shoulder and found that George was still following.

"I think I'll pass. I feel it's my responsibility as a professor to make sure arrive at the Hospital wing safely."

"I don't want to talk to you." Hermione turned a corner quickly, following the walls of the corridor. She was finally on the right floor.

"You wanted to talk a minute ago. You didn't want to go to the Hospital wing until we talked."

"That was before you dropped me! That was before I knew you gave me the potion!"

George scoffed loudly. "You always knew I gave it to you, Hermione. And you know why, too."

"No, George, I honestly don't know why." She wanted to run, to at least walk quickly enough to escape George, but her feet protested with every step.

"I'm just keeping my promise. It never slipped into the back of my mind, you know. The Chameleon Powder incident, that is. I think most people would call this occurrence with the love potion 'retaliation'. Maybe it got a little further than I expected, but I'd say I fought back well."

Hermione's muscles clenched as she stormed down the hall; the Hospital wing door was in sight. She didn't want to think about what George had just said, but she couldn't help it. She felt the anger within her rising, heating up her body with a mad passion. All Hermione wanted was to escape him, to plow through the upcoming doors and rid herself of George Weasley.

"Maybe I did know all along, but I was giving you the benefit of the doubt!" Hermione arrived at the doors, swinging them open with rage. As Hermione's stepped into the room, she heard and eerie crunch and smash behind her. Stopping, she looked over her shoulder. Instantly, her hand shot up to her mouth. George was on the ground, a bloody hand covering his face.

"Blawdy ell!" Hermione gasped as she assisted George up, blood from his face dripping onto her clothes. "Did nu haf to swing da door so ard? I tink you broke my noz!" He removed his hand from his face to reveal that, indeed, his nose was broken. In a painful fashion, his nose crooked in an abnormal direction. He instantly covered his nose back up when he felt more blood race onto his lips.

"Goodness!" Madame Pomfrey jolted up from her seat at her desk as she heard the commotion, and she pushed the two into separate beds. In excruciating pain, both laid down to await care. Hermione glanced over to see that Harry was still in laying down as well. Silently, he mouthed that they had to wait for Snape to make more potion to heal them. She groaned loudly before Madame Pomfrey returned to the room with an unknown potion.

"Drink this," she instructed George. "It'll stop the blood." Wordlessly, he accepted the putrid potion. "My, it's been a while since we've had a professor in our care here!" With the flick her wand, George's nose snapped back into place perfectly.

"I was escorting Ms. Granger here," he informed her as he felt his restored nose. "She accidentally opened the door too, er, forcefully. Luckily, I was already here!"

"Lucky you were. You two, however, aren't as lucky." Madame Pomfrey rotated to her other patients. "I've already informed Professor Snape that I've ran out of Boil-Cure Potion. Fortunately, he already has a small stash brewed, and he'll be delivering it shortly."

"Erm, Madame Pomfrey?" Hermione spoke up softly. "Do you also happen to have any potions to reverse the effects of love potions?"

"Love potions? Why, who would be giving you a love potion, my dear? They are strictly forbidden at Hogwarts. That being said, no, I have no cure on hand."

"Oh," Hermione said, crestfallen. "I suppose it will fade with time, then. I don't know who gave it to me, but it was rather weak." Madame Pomfrey nodded before making her way back to the storeroom to put up the remainders of the potion she gave George. George fumbled through his robes as soon as she left.

"Here," he said towards Hermione, throwing a small pink vial across the room. "It'll reverse the love potion." Hermione caught it, sipping it as Harry's eyes grew wide.

"Did you slip her the love potion?" Hermione shook her head in response to Harry as her clouded mind was washed away by the liquid.

"No, he didn't," she lied. "I don't know who did it, and I have no clue why he has this with him in the first place." George looked over at her with immense curiosity, but Hermione rolled over onto her side, looking away from her professor. Refusing to speak up once more, the room feel into the path of an awkward silence among the patients.

"George," Madame Pomfrey called out into the room as she strolled back in. "You're free to leave now."

George shook his head with refusal. "I brought Ms. Granger here, and I'd like to make sure she makes a quick recovery."

"That's really okay, Professor," Hermione begged to George. She propped herself up with her arms and shot him a final plea. "You don't have to stay." Her eyes were shouting for him to finally leave her alone, but he shook his head again.

A gleam of mischief flashed through George's eyes. "Don't be silly. I insist." What did George want to do, aggravate Hermione until she went clinically insane?

"How thoughtful," Madame Pomfrey interjected. "I do have to warn you, though. If you disrupt these students getting better, you will be forced to leave." George curtly nodded as he stood up from his cot and strolled over to Hermione. Slowly, he sat down in the chair next to her. It creaked in response, and Hermione again rolled away from George. Despite the fact that she had just been head over heels for the man, she never wanted to see Snape more than that very moment.

An hour went by before Snape's class ended; he arrived at the Hospital wing with two containers full of Boil-Cure Potion. Madame Pomfrey was in the back room organizing her collection of healing potions when he came in.

"Maybe you two will think-" Snape began, but he stopped when he saw George next to Hermione. His frown morphed into a face of disapproval. "Professor Weasley," he addressed, "Is there any reason for you accompanying my students here today?"

"Well, Ms. Granger was struggling to with walking to get here, so I had to assist her."

"Ah. And tell me, is there any reason why she was walking by your classroom on the third floor in the Charms corridor? Surely that was out of her way."

"Possibly," George admitted. "I'm not in tune with the reasons why she and Mr. Potter were walking by my class. I was just doing my duty as a professor to assist them."

"How utterly pleasant of you," Snape sneered as he shoved the potions towards his students. As they swallowed the red liquid, their boils slowly faded away. Snape, without hesitation, made his departure, shortly followed by George. Hermione and Harry exchanged incredulous looks.

Madame Pomfrey dismissed more than an hour after Snape left. Upon checking their wounds, she declared that they were completely back to normal as she shooed them off to class. Harry and Hermione strolled down the hallway. Transfiguration would be dismissed by the time they made it over to the class, and they had a free period directly afterwards. Without words, they decided to head down the corridor.

"We forgot our books in Potions," Harry said quietly as the they turned a corner.

"I'm not going back in there today. I think I've had enough Snape for a day."

"Or a life." Harry cracked a smile, shoving his hands into his pockets. "So, do you know what was up with George?"

"Not the faintest clue. He's been acting odd all day. He was only with me because I originally blamed him for the love potion."

"Originally? Who do you blame now, then?" Hermione shrugged as they began walking up a flight of stairs.

"I don't really know," she fibbed as the staircase started moving, changing the path of the two students. "I suppose it doesn't matter. It was wrong of me to blame him, anyhow. I shouldn't be so unpleasant to him just because of a detention or two. We're friends, and I suppose we should start actually being friendly towards each other. He at least brought an extra cure with him to the Hospital wing for me… that was nice." Hermione didn't know why she was lying to Harry about George, but she felt like Harry wouldn't approve of what was going on between them. It was funny that Hermione now worried about Harry getting onto her for inappropriate conduct in school instead of the normal other way around.

"I suppose so."

"Now, if you don't mind me Harry, I'm going to go find Ginny. I have something I want to talk to her about." Harry agreed, pointing her in the direction of the Common Room, which was where he too was headed.

Ginny sat by the fire next to a fellow seventh year Gryffindor. Hermione approached her steadfast, pulling her in a path towards the quiet dormitories. After all, business needed to be discussed private. They were at war now.

* * *

**Author's Notes: **So there you have it! George strikes, and Hermione's now planning to strike back. **What did you think of the chapter? **Hopefully you weren't too confused during the Potions scene with why Hermione was freaking out. And George showed the slightest bit of compassion towards Hermione! How nice. **What do you think Hermione will do to strike back? **I know a lot of you are confident that Hermione will pull through and show George who's boss, but can she hit him hard this time?

Thanks to all of my lovely reviewers: Nutters4Potter, smilessss, Tillypie, Deevee White, and LittleMissProngs! Every single one of your reviews brings a smile to my face. Also, thanks to all of my subscribers; there are close to 40 of you now! Now, I don't particularly like begging, but **please review!** I'd really love hearing from all of you, and I accept anonymous reviews. I want to continue this story at a quicker pace, but I need a little more encouragement than I'm already receiving! **Have a wonderful weekend everyone.** I hope to hear from all of you lovely people!


	14. Making a Splash

**Author's Notes: **After many moons, I've_ finally_ returned to the world of fan fiction! Oh, how cruel the days have been without it. I know you guys don't want to read long, elaborate excuses, so I'll just say that the good and bad parts of life got in the way of me being able to write this story. Let's leave it at that and, hopefully, I'll not take another six months to upload the next chapter! So, without further adieu, here is your much awaited chapter.

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**Chapter Fourteen: Making a Splash**

The light tapping sound of George's fingers against his wooded headboard screamed out in the silence of the night. Darkness poured into the room freely, washing over George as he sprawled out in his bed in discomfort. A good amount of time ago, George crawled into his bed with the intention to sleep, but his mind was racing through thoughts and feelings. Hours slipped by as George tossed in his large bed; George could not toss a certain subject out of his mind.

Initially, George set out that morning with every intention to destroy with his prank. He wanted to see Hermione suffer from the humiliation. However, he had not planned on actually harming anyone in the process. The fact that George sent Harry and Hermione to the Hospital wing with hideously painful boils kept George's mind racing, jumping around from thoughts in high speeds.

George turned his body over, again, onto his side as he tried to escape his thoughts. He faced his large window that had a meager view of the Hogwarts grounds. Off in the distance, he saw three figures making their way to the Forbidden Forest, presumably for a late-night detention with Hagrid into the forest.

"Luckier than you know," George mumbled as he turned his face into his pillow. He tried to strangle his thoughts leading to Hermione, but the attempt failed. Those students who were going to detention right now would have their sentence done with soon. They weren't going to be haunted and abused by a teacher over something trivial. Mostly, they wouldn't end up needing medical treatment after their idiot of a Charms teacher pulled a prank on them.

Remorse wasn't the typical feeling George experienced in the hours after a prank, but two of his friends had been harmed as a result from his little love potion. That wasn't something he had been accustomed to in the past. Harming pricks, prats, and dunderheads were one thing, but at the end of the day, Harry and Hermione were both his friends. At least he considered them friends; who knows if they still considered him the same. When George had stayed in the Hospital wing earlier, much to Hermione's annoyance, it was because George felt horribly responsible for putting two good people through pain. He _was_ responsible for it, after all, and he wanted to make sure no lasting damage occured. The feeling of regret dulled his senses and trickled through his veins as the thoughts and the ever-haunting twinge of regret plagued his mind.

George didn't recognize his actions towards Hermione all year. Declaring "war" on an old friend? That wasn't normal, even for a prankster like himself. But George didn't feel normal; nothing was right where he was. He was a misfit in a crowd of perfect carbon copies. Hogwarts was stifling him, confusing his mind. It wasn't the authority of the job that George minded. He was his own boss with the joke shop, and he found pleasure in that control. George, though, was the very authority that he fought against for years, and that plagued his mind. The boisterous, joyful persona that he once embodied had morphed into a "sir". George lost who he was here.

In an attempt to distract his mind from the unpleasant truth of his situation, George sprang out of bed. Eyes adjusted from the darkness after being exposed to it for so long, he instantly grabbed his wand off the small nightstand without a struggle as he strode out of his bedroom. He muttered a familiar spell as the room lit up. Ardently, he paced over to his desk.

"I'll just write Fred," he thought to himself, but George's body quickly froze to the thought. He didn't want to admit to Fred his mistakes. He would admit them, of course, but the chore could wait.

With a change of pace, George slowly pulled out the wooden chair he had been aiming towards and sat down at the desk. Fingering the textured quill laying on the hard surface, George's mind flash to his brother. Hogwarts was never hard in previous years, and it was painfully obvious why; George just wasn't whole without his twin.

"He never agreed with this." The noise of his own voice almost shocked George as he spoke, but his supposed revelation did not. Imperceptible as it was at times, it had always been apparent to George that Fred disagreed with his recent pursuits. Fred didn't think it was much of an option for George to become a professor, but George knew he had no true choice; he had to do it for Dumbledore. More recently, George could see that his brother didn't approve of a war with Hermione. Fred hoped to keep this thought hidden, but it was no secret to George; he just pretended it was a secret. Maybe if George had been with Fred, this present guilt could have been avoided.

George shook his head as he looked around the room. The deep shades of blues transformed into a haunting shade of gray by the deforming fog that clouded his eyes. Shaking it off, George pushed himself out of the desk chair, but an anxious feeling shoved him back down into the seat.

Insecurities, for the first time ever, flooded George, choking him fatally. Fred always kept him afloat, and without him here, what else was there? George needed Fred; he was painfully alone in the world without him. Functioning was impossible without him by his side. It was childish, and it was selfish, but all he wanted was to return home to his brother. To his shop. To where he wasn't a pathetic teacher that hated the idea of teaching.

Not that George hadn't tried to accept fate and teach. George just couldn't stand it. With every lesson, he felt even further away from who he was. He saw the students, all excelling, and in the bright gleams of their eyes, he saw his own failure. George couldn't do this alone. He didn't want to do this at all. He was so completely out of his element, and no matter how hard he tried, he couldn't find his way back. With Hermione's excessive excelling, George couldn't even find out which direction normal was in. So, in a vain attempt to feel slightly like himself once more, he lashed out against her.

So maybe it wasn't fair. Part of him wanted to bring her down, and part of him just wanted to feel at home. He didn't want to feel alone, and this was his way of fixing that. Was it right and moral? No, not at all. But while George was scheming and tricking, it almost fooled him into believing Fred was right there behind him planning the whole ordeal out as well. And that was enough to make the job bearable.

George pushed himself out of his chair and away from these thoughts. Without a hint of hesitation, he found his way back into his bedroom where he laid for the rest of the night in a near-sleepless slumber. George couldn't believe how far this "war" had already gone, and the thought kept him from resting. With each toss and turn in that bed, George knew one thing for sure: he had to set things right with Hermione Granger.

* * *

"No, Laura, the trick isn't in the wand movement. Concentration is key."

The fifth-year Hufflepuff looked up from her toad and to her teacher, nodding slightly. With a meek determination, she turned back to her subject, muttering the incantation.

"That's the secret for Summoning Charms," George announced, voice reaching all ends of the classroom. "If you concentrate on what you're summoning hard enough, distance won't even matter. So focus on the object flying into your hands. _Accio!_"

At the cue of George's words, the object that his wand had been pointed to, a student's textbook, soared into George's palms. A few students awed in admiration, while others returned to practicing with more diligence than before.

"Here you go, Orla," George said as he handed a Ravenclaw back her book. A sparse blush crept onto Orla's face as she put her book back onto her desk and began practicing the spell again. For some reason, she couldn't do the spell at the moment, but she perfectly capable of summoning objects a minute ago…

George knew that he should be helping out students right now, hands on, but instead, he looked at the class, pretending to watch them all for mistakes. Instead, his mind focused away from class. It had only been the previous day when George had pranked Harry and Hermione. After a near sleepless night, George, determined to make things right, set out to end the "war" between Hermione and ask for Harry's forgiveness on the way. Though George had set out to make amends between his brother's best friends, he found the task dauntingly impossible. Harry had accepted his apology early that morning on the way to breakfast; getting a chance to talk to Hermione was more difficult.

She wasn't at breakfast that morning. George got to the Great Hall first (since he was one of the first ones up), and he left last. Hermione never showed up for food. Harry and Ron both hadn't seen her, and Ginny was nowhere to be found as well. George tried the library, checked outside the Gryffindor Tower, and even attempted to pull her out of class, but since he wasn't aware of her class schedule, the final plan fell through. During lunchtime, Hermione had already come and gone by the time George sat down. It seemed impossible to ask for her forgiveness.

George's last lesson of the day ended, and he was beyond antsy. Instead of focusing on the lesson plan he was making, he just kept going over his apology to Hermione in his head. She was driving him mad.

After a few hours of necessary work was done, George groggily headed towards his living quarters to put away his work before dinner. The new plan was to find Hermione after dinner or, if all else failed, during her patrolling duties that night. He just happened to hear an 5th year in his previous class talking about how she was not looking forward to patrolling at the same time as her tonight.

"Thank you, Emma Dobbs," George thought aloud, "for your inability to control the volume of your own voice."

As George turned the corner, about to approach the correct portrait hole, he froze; Hermione Granger was walking down the corridor. Her body looked tense and nervous, most likely a direct effect of the traumatic events that occurred the day before. Without delay, and without turning the heads of everyone on that floor, he put his plan into action.

"Hermione," George hoarsely emitted, trying to grab her attention conspicuously. When her step didn't falter, George changed his tactic; with great speed, he tiptoed towards Hermione and closed the vast ground between the two. In his second attempt, George whispered her name once more. In great surprise, she turned around swiftly.

It took her a second to process the situation, but as soon as she grasped the circumstances, Hermione looked wan with disgust at the sight of George. Angrily, she shook him off and began to stride away from the scene. George was not giving up.

"What?" Hermione snapped as George grabbed her wrist, keeping her from escaping. With a tug, George pulled Hermione twenty feet over and into his living quarters, emitting the password upon entrance.

Hermione snatched herself away from George as the portrait clicked shut behind her.

"What are you doing?" seethed Hermione.

"Having a chat with you." George grinned, trying to soften the mood. He hoped Hermione's facial expression would at least shift to neutral, but her frustration did not falter. His smile fell.

"Is it even morally sound that I'm in your room?" she asked. A nervous twinge strained her voice slightly, but it was overwhelmed by the rage. "We must be breaking about thirty rules by this point!"

George couldn't help but chuckle.

"Since when do I care about rules?" Hermione face turned a shade redder in response to George, but he continued. "Look, we're _probably _breaking one, but no big deal."

"No big deal? George, I don't care how non-existent your principles are; I'm not going to stoop to your level and break Merlin knows how many rules!"

"It's not like anyone would condone us for this," he reasoned in response. "We've known each other for years. Besides, you're not fooling me. You don't give a damn about the rules."

George could see the frustration fume through her body. With vigor, Hermione stepped closer to George, causing him to inch backwards.

"That's not true."

"You break them all the time."

"For a reason!" Hermione yelled, causing George to flinch. "A _just_ reason. Why am I here?"

He was taken aback on how the subject reversed. Shaking his head, he snapped back into the conversation.

"I told you… we're talking," he responded lamely.

Hermione impatiently asked, "About what?" At least she wasn't yelling anymore. Her voice and body remained stiff, though.

Now that the opportunity to apologize had arisen, George didn't know what to do. Diligently, he had practiced his monologue in his head over and over again the previous night. His mind was blank now.

"I dunno." George wanted to smack himself. 'I dunno'? Of course he knew! Gritting his teeth, he tried to focus on not being a babbling halfwit.

"Then why am I here if you have no idea what you're talking about?" Hermione had enough of the nonsense, and she turned to leave.

"No!" George interrupted her exit. "I have something I need to say, and I know what it is this time." Slowly, Hermione turned back to the twin, annoyance prevalent in her eyes.

"Don't take long," she warned him, a small amount of panic etched into her face.

He couldn't avoid it any longer; he had to make things right. With one deep breath, George plunged in to the seriousness.

"Hermione, I shouldn't of done that." She didn't blink in the silence. When he didn't continued, she edged him forwards with a bite.

"Done what?"

"Well, you know." When she didn't react, he added, "With yesterday."

"The practical poison you gave me?" George winced at her words.

"I wouldn't call it poison," he tried to ease, but Hermione crossed her dainty arms and cocked her head.

"It poisoned my mind with unforgettable thoughts."

"Fair enough," trailed off George. He reached his arm up to his head, messing up his hair out of the nervousness over the situation. How was Hermione going to react to what he said? George felt like he had run out of words to go deeper into thing. Maybe what he already said was enough for Hermione… maybe she accepted it as the sincere apology that it was.

"Well?" she huffed out, breaking the silence.

Maybe not.

"Right." The professor stumbled with his words, thoughts jumbled. "Well, you know… that experience was, um, pretty much painful for us both."

"Because I broke your nose-"

"No. Not because of the nose." A newfound confidence engulfed George. "The nose was no problem. Hermione, I could take a hundred broken noses to make up for the prat I've been! What I'm-"

"What time is it?" George confidence had been interrupted, halted by such a casual question. Had he heard her correctly?

"What?"

"Is it seven yet?" George blinked. The time? Was it really important enough to interrupt him? He was tired of being Hermione's enemy, and he needed it to end now, but with the pleading look on Hermione's face, George looked at his wristwatch.

"…almost. It's almost seven."

"I need to leave." Hermione, without a moment of hesitation, pushed open the portrait that connected George's rooms with the halls of Hogwarts and barged out.

"Are you serious?" George screamed in disbelief. "Hermione, I need to talk to you about this!"

"Sorry! After dinner, bye!" was all George heard from Hermione's fleeting voice. And she was gone.

Frustration brewed and boiled inside George, mixing with the internal confusion. Hermione was anxious for… dinner? It didn't seem right to George, but he didn't dwell upon the thought. Although he had been so close, there was still the opportunity to make amends later tonight. He focused on the small hands of his watch, inaudibly ticking around in a circle. As he wished for time to go by quicker, the clock clicked over to seven.

With his ear, George suddenly heard a noise that he hadn't noticed invading the silence before; water. Seconds apart, he heard fat water droplets plopping down against the sink within the kitchen nook. Slowly, George walked over, involuntarily getting going to turn off the sink. How long had that been dripping for? George, upon reaching the sink, stretched out his long, wide hands, aiming them towards the faucet. With just a bit of a squeak, the knob turned slightly.

He supposed he should head off to dinner; George normally stopped by his living quarters to drop off paperwork and other materials from teaching before he sauntered towards the Great Hall for dinner. He was never the first to be seated at seven, but he normally arrived a few minutes after; it only took a short amount of time to walk from his room to the Great Hall.

George took a step towards leaving, but he noticed something was still wrong. The water from the faucet wasn't off. In fact, it was coming out in a steady stream. George thought he turned the knob the right way, but with this new evidence presented, he was otherwise convinced, figuring he was just confused. Sighing, he stepped back to the sink to turn off his water. As soon as his fingers made contact with the sink, George jumped back in surprise. The water was now gushing out of the sink at full blast. He hadn't even turned the knob before the water began spewing out of control. George, to escape from the splashes, turned his upper body away from the rush of water.

"What the-?" George questioned aloud as the water continued. Just then, he heard a noise from the bathroom: a more prominent splash. He hastily abandoned his post at the sink to investigate. He was even more so confused with what he found.

The bathtub was on, water pouring out faster than it could drain, and the toilet was simultaneously overflowing. George's mouth gaped open at the scene. It just didn't make sense.

George took a stride into the bathroom, stepping in a huge puddle; a small tidal wave, as effect from stepping into the water, soaked the right leg of his trousers. More water was leaking into the bathroom, but it wasn't from the toilet or bathtub. George pivoted, groaning out when he saw his sink. It was pouring out water, flooding at speeds George didn't know existed. With a shift back in attention, he ran into the kitchen to stop the water.

He almost tripped when he realized how idiotic he was being; he was a wizard. The water was a measly opponent in comparison to a wand. With this pristine knowledge and mindset, George whipped out his wand as the water in the room reached his knees. He was ready for action.

But it was too late. Before George had the chance to utter out an incantation, George heard the crash of... a wave? Almost afraid to do so, he peeked back to the bathroom. His eyes widened in horror. A tsunami-like wave immerged from the bathroom, crashing onto George and taking him away as its prisoner. At a mighty speed, the wave burst through the portrait hole and out into the hallway, growing in size once the ceilings were higher.

George screamed out for help. He was in the hallway of Hogwarts, consumed in a giant wave. Someone had to know how to help! He splashed his head out of the water, hoping someone would hear before it was too late.

The wave turned a sharp corner, nearly colliding with the stone wall. George couldn't even process what was happening. He was spinning, flipping, turning at the whim of the mysterious wave. Blurs of paintings and statues passed him by as he gurgled through the water, not even noticing how he could magically breath in it.

George didn't see the group of students walking in the hall until it was too late to warn them of whatever was happening. The water was going to crash on them and suck them into the nonsense. They turned around petrified, having no idea what to do in the event a giant tsunami wave (which has your Charms professor captive already) makes it's way towards you. Closing their eyes, they awaited their fate.

Suddenly, the bottom of the wave parted, tunneling a safe path for the students to go under. They didn't even notice they were spared until the wave was down the corridor, not even leaving the smallest trace of water on the floor.

George somehow managed to gape at the event while he rode the insanity of the wave. What, was this wave only out to get him?

Of course. The wave was obviously manipulated by magic. Someone had been out to extinguish his pride in pranking, and it was obvious whom that person was. George scowled as the wave rode down a staircase, confusing the random pedestrians walking on them.

"Hermione!" he gargled with fury as the wave approached the ground floor. The wave's traveling was about to come to an end, but George noticed that it was not by choice. He was riding, with great speed, towards the grand doors that entered the Great Hall. Without a second to prepare for the impact, he crashed against the doors, falling down to solid ground. Only small puddles of moisture were left behind as evidence of the wave.

George was sore. He was sore, he was soaked, and he was laying face up at the doorway into the Great Hall. Students around him, finally processing the situation, gasped and gossiped at the unusual state their professor was in, but mostly, they all just laughed. Teachers rose from their dinners to assist and assess the situation.

Among all the commotion, nobody heard George Weasley say, "That's the last time I attempt to apologize to her."

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**Author's Notes: **So, what do you think? Did Hermione show George who's boss, or will she have to do better than that? What do you think George will do in return?

Even more so than normal, thank you to all my wonderful reviewers: adambrodylvoer, Bedelia, Nutters4Potter, mindreadingweirdo, Strawberry-Green-Girl, , Lizzie, EveFidelius, and alindy! You're all fabulous. Thanks to everyone subscribing now as well! I'd love to hear from all you wonderful people sometime soon, so if you can find it in your heart to, review!

Thank you all for reading! I hope you guys like the story so far. Have a great day!


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